


The Cursed Shall Inherit the Earth

by Seaglassandstars



Series: The Cursed Shall Inherit the Earth AU [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Antarctic Empire, Gen, Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Wilbur Soot is Floris | Fundy's Parent, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28474428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seaglassandstars/pseuds/Seaglassandstars
Summary: The royal family of the Antarctic Empire was said to have magic- control over the ice and snow that makes up their land. It allowed them to survive the deadly cold and the whiteout snowstorms. It meant they were strong enough to rule. It meant they were blessed by the gods.Too bad they were cursed as well.Or: The royal family of the Antarctic Empire doesn't have it easy. But they do have a few things going for them: magic, and a bond nothing- not even the gods that look upon them so cruelly- can break.
Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: The Cursed Shall Inherit the Earth AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142582
Comments: 141
Kudos: 940





	1. Blessings Part I: The Twins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was obsessed with Frozen when I was younger so I guess you can blame that for the part of my brain that saw SBI Antarctic Empire fics and thought "needs magic." The first few chapters will be a character study of sorts, and then the real action begins :-)
> 
> I haven't posted to this site in years, so I apologize for any formatting issues.  
> Enjoy!

1\. WILBUR 

The king’s firstborn son, Technoblade, wasn’t the first to come into his powers. It was the second born, Wilbur. He was the warmth of winter, of holding a steaming mug between freezing hands, of curling up under a thick blanket, of sitting near the fire on a snowy day. He had big dark eyes and curly brown hair, and his nose was always red from the cold. 

On his tenth birthday, the king had given him a guitar to play with, though he expected it to be only a passing fancy. But his son played it day in and day out until every note rang true, and the palace staff began to slow near his bedchamber door to catch just a second or two of his beautiful music. 

It was summer that year when Wilbur came running into Philza’s study, guitar strapped to his back with a strip of red fabric. It was striking against the pale blue of his sweater. “Dad, I wrote a song!” he said. “Can I play it for you?”

Phil set aside the trade treaties he’d been reviewing and pulled out a chair for his son to sit down. 

Wilbur’s playing was quiet at first, gaining speed and volume as he gained confidence. His eyes shut tightly in concentration. Phil decided to follow suit and closed his eyes in order to really listen. Even at just ten years old, he could tell his son’s singing voice would be beautiful.

The magic in the king kept him from feeling the sudden temperature drop in the room. He kept listening, eyes closed, until a snowflake landed on the tip of his nose. Snow swirled around his young son, and frost began blossoming on his guitar as his fingers danced over the strings. 

Phil gasped, and his son’s eyes flew open as he plucked a sour note. He whimpered at the sight of the snow and frost and held his hands away from him as if they were dangerous. Phil took them in his own. Sadly, he noted that the warmth that seemed ever-present in his son’s hands was gone, replaced by an icy chill just like his father’s own. 

“You’ve got the gift,” the king said. “I’m so proud of you.”

“But...” Wilbur said, his eyes filling with tears. He wrenched his hands out of his father’s grip. “My guitar is gonna be ruined! I can’t be king, and now I can’t even play music!” He took off the guitar strap and dropped the instrument on the snowy floor. “I hate magic and I hate this place!” He ran from the room, leaving icy footprints in his wake. 

King Philza sighed, rubbing a hand up and down his face. He decided to give his son a little bit of space, so he picked up the guitar and took it into the nearby village to the woodworker who made it. 

She was a dear friend of the king, which is why he trusted her to keep the newfound powers of the prince a secret until a public announcement. She took the instrument in her hands and tsked. When the ice melted, she explained, the wood would warp, probably beyond repair. He paid her to design a new one (and an identical spare, just in case). 

Once he returned to the palace, he made his way to Wilbur’s room. He knocked thrice, knock-knock knock, his and Wilbur’s special signal. “Wil? Can I come in?”

To his surprise, the door was opened by his eldest son. Techno looked up at him with eyes as big as his twin’s, a paler brown that looked hazel in the right light. His steady gaze held wisdom beyond his years. Phil thought he had a king’s gaze; secretly, it made him proud. 

Phil let Techno lead him over to the bed in the center of the room, where Wilbur seemed to be hiding under the covers. Phil picked Techno up, something he didn’t do often enough anymore since they’d gotten bigger, and swung his legs up onto the bed, his back against the headboard and his son in his lap. Wilbur peaked out at him from under his blankets with red-rimmed eyes. Phil reached out and smoothed Wilbur’s hair back, over and over again until the crease between his eyebrows faded. 

Eventually, Wilbur sat up and scooted over so he could lean against his father’s side. 

“You haven’t lost your music, my son,” Phil said. “When you played earlier, you put your soul into your music and the magic in your soul woke up. You’ll learn to control that magic, and you’ll play again, okay? Your music was a gift from the same gods who gave us our powers, and once bestowed, they never take back a gift.”

Wilbur nodded and shuffled further into his father’s side. The king sat contently, a son in each arm, until squealing laughter echoed down the hallway. Tiny feet came running into the room, carrying a spritely four-year-old, the youngest prince.  
“Daddy!” Tommy cried, running over to the king and making grabby hands. Tommy’s frazzled nanny ran into the room, panting heavily. 

She curtsied for the royal family. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, he’s quite fast when he wants to be!” she said.

“It’s fine, Ms. Shah. Take the rest of the evening off,” Phil said with a wave.

She curtsied once more, biting back a grin. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” She disappeared around the corner, leaving the royal family alone.

Techno climbed off of Phil’s lap to sit next to Wilbur, leaving Phil’s arms free to pick up his youngest son. Tommy wrapped his little arms around as much of his dad as he could, and Phil held him close. After a moment, Tommy sat back and started playing with the gold clasp that held Phil’s cape on his shoulders. He looked over at his older brothers who sat quietly side by side, Techno’s arm around Wilbur. “Wilby? Why are you sad?” he asked.

“It’s nothing, Tommy,” Wilbur said. 

Tommy pouted. “Techie, why Wilby sad?”

Techno frowned. “It’s nothing, Tommy.”

Tommy’s pout deepened, and his hands closed into tiny fists. He looked up at Phil with angry eyes, and his father could tell that a meltdown was imminent. “Hey, Tommy,” he said, “wanna help me make hot chocolate? I’ll let you have a marshmallow if you behave in the kitchen.”

Tommy’s face instantly turned sunny at the mention of marshmallows. He nodded vigorously and hooked his arms around his dad’s neck so he could be carried to the kitchen. Phil stopped in the doorway. “Boys,” he said, “meet us in the solar in twenty minutes? There will be hot chocolate and ghost stories if you do.”

2\. TECHNO

Technoblade loved a good ghost story when he was younger. He looked a bit like he belonged in one, with hair a washed-out brown and hazel eyes. His skin was ghostly pale, too, a side effect of preferring to read the old mythology books in the library over riding horses in the fields or play-fighting outside with his brothers. But, as he grew up, he started going for walks in the expansive greenhouses and sword fighting with the dummies in the yard. He was never quite as tall as Wilbur, but Wilbur was all string bean limbs as a teenager whereas Techno spent enough time fighting to fill out his height a bit better. Somewhere along the line, they lost the ability to switch places easily, and Phil would be lying if he said he didn’t miss their giggles every time he caught them pretending to be each other. 

As they grew into young teenagers, the differences in Phil’s twin sons went beyond stature— Techno started wearing his crown, polished to perfection, while Wilbur picked up a worn red beanie (which he would never tell Phil where it came from). Techno stood tall while Wilbur slouched. Techno wore a ruffled white shirt, overcoat, thick furred cape, and steel-toed boots while Wilbur wore a knit sweater, hooded jacket, and cavalier boots. Techno’s glasses were small and rectangular while Wilbur’s were big and circular. Techno often had a sword strap across his chest while Wilbur had a guitar strap across his.

But the most striking difference, in Phil’s opinion, was that Techno hadn’t come into his powers yet while Wilbur had had his for years. Four, to be exact. Phil knew it bothered Techno, though Techno never said anything about it. Every time Wilbur conjured up a snowball to throw at Tommy, or forgot his crown for an official appointment and simply made one out of ice, or used a frigid gust of wind to close a door that was accidentally left open, Techno would flex his hands at his sides as if willing magic to flow through them and let him do what Wilbur did. 

As Phil pondered this, he stared out his frost-covered window at the snowy landscape in hope of answers from the snow gods that watched over them. He was worried about what it would mean if his son never got powers. The villagers would talk, surely, and it would cause unrest and distrust in the ruling power. But more importantly, his son would have to work harder to survive than the rest of his family. Techno always needed warmth more than the rest of them, and ever since Wilbur has gained his powers and Techno lost his brother’s furnace-like heat to leech off of, he had been struggling. Phil could see it in the way that he wore twice as many layers as Wilbur, and in the way that his bed was piled high with furs and knitted blankets and the fire in his bedchamber was always roaring. His cheeks were always pink and his nose and chapped hands were always red. He never complained, though, and it broke Phil’s heart.

“Please, I beg of you, don’t let this be his fate,” the king whispered to the gods. The wind howled in response. 

Over the wind rattling the window, Phil swore he heard grunts and bangs from down below. He opened his window to see what the commotion was, a hand tight on his striped bucket hat, and leaned down. In the courtyard below was Technoblade, slicing and stabbing at a burlap dummy with a dull, wooden training sword. He raised the sword high above his head and Phil watched as a layer of ice spread from the hilt and covered the blade, turning it deadly sharp. Techno slashed the sword across the dummy’s chest and it tore with a loud rip, pouring sand onto the ground. Techno startled, then looked at the sword in his hand. He dropped it and stumbled back, but his boot caught on his cape and he fell backwards. 

The king dropped to his knees. _Thank you_ , he thought, _thank you, thank you, thank you_. His son was saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had it so the blessings of the royal family was one chapter, the curses was the second, and the action began in the third. However, Tommy's blessing alone ended up being almost 1700 words, so I decided to split the blessings chapter into (1) the twins and (2) Tommy. I'm currently working on the curses chapter and got just as carried away, so now Techno's part is 2300 words and the chapter will probably actually be three. Oops.
> 
> Anyways, Tommy's chapter should be up today or tomorrow. Happy New Year!


	2. Blessings Part II: Tommy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's mr. innit.  
> enjoy.
> 
> If mentions of blood make you uncomfortable, there's a small part of the chapter I suggest skipping, which I put dashes before and after. (spoilers): To summarize what happens in that bit, Tommy accidentally gets hurt and his magic comes in clutch. :)

3\. TOMMY

Tommy never needed saving. Not from his brothers’ teasing, not from the nightmares he sometimes had, not from the freezing temperatures outside the walls of the castle. Where Wilbur was the warmth in winter, Tommy was a blazing fire. 

He was younger than his brothers by six years, but he made every effort to keep up with them. Phil figured it must be lonely being the youngest, especially since his brothers were twins and were able to share so much. 

But the boys were good about including their baby brother no matter how much he annoyed them. When the twins were around twelve or thirteen, Phil would often find them all in Techno’s room, Techno reading out loud while Wilbur held a squirming Tommy, or Wilbur playing his guitar while Tommy sat on Techno’s lap, playing with Techno’s crown. 

One of Phil’s favorite memories is from when the twins were eleven and Wil was just starting to get the hang of his powers. Phil heard pealing laughter outside and decided he’d had enough of being cooped up in his study. He donned his hat and fur-lined cape, and headed out into the courtyard where his young children were playing. Tommy clung onto Wilbur’s arm, watching as he concentrated on making a snowball. Wilbur’s eyebrows were furrowed and his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth, but he couldn’t manage to get the snow to stick together and it kept slipping through his fingers to the ground below. 

Techno was watching over Wilbur’s shoulder, and he was only the one who spotted their father. Phil put a finger up to his lips and mimed making a snowball. Techno’s expression broke into a mischievous smile and he backed up from his brothers to scoop up snow and roll it between his mittens. Phil did the same, keeping his eyes on his oldest son. He pointed to himself and then Wilbur, and Techno and then Tommy. Techno nodded, and Phil counted down from three with his fingers. Together, they threw their snowballs, Techno’s catching Wilbur in the back and Phil’s plopping right on top of Tommy’s head. 

Wilbur yelped and Tommy shrieked, but they were drowned out by Phil and Techno laughing. It started a strictly no-powers snowball fight, Wilbur and Tommy versus Phil and Techno. Tommy’s little arms couldn’t keep up with Techno’s fierce will to win, and the king and his successor were victorious. Wilbur used his white hat, embroidered with a glittering symbol of a blue sun, as a white flag. They made snow angels afterwards, and Phil had to carry Tommy in because he was too tired from the excitement of the day to walk on his own. Techno and Wilbur walked in front of him, arm in arm. 

As Tommy got older, his energy reserves seemed to grow bottomless, and he was constantly asking Wilbur to make him things out of ice, or Phil to play pirates with him, or Techno to sword fight with him. Phil shut that last idea down as soon as he heard it, but if there was one thing Tommy had been gifted with, it was determination. Phil constantly caught him trying to sneak out to Techno’s private gym when he knew his older brother would be practicing. Phil gave him a bow and quiver for his tenth birthday and put a target in the courtyard below his window in hopes of appeasing him. It didn’t work, and Tommy got sneakier. At least that’s what Phil tells himself when he remembers the accident that happened later that same year. It wasn’t that Phil was inattentive; it was that Tommy was getting good at sneaking around.

Phil will always remember the way Techno called for him, his voice high in panic. He was eighteen then, and didn’t often need his dad to get him out of tricky situations. Wilbur had heard Techno’s yell, too, and was just opening his bedchamber door to go see what happened when Phil ran past. Wilbur trailed behind him, his long legs easily letting him keep up with his father.

And Phil will always remember the scene he came upon: Techno kneeling in front of Tommy, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, while Tommy hiccuped and sobbed. Techno had wrapped the red sash he was wearing around Tommy’s arm and was holding it tightly. 

Phil dropped to his knees next to Techno and Wilbur crouched down next to Tommy. Wil brushed away his baby brother’s tears, and Tommy subconsciously leaned into his side and screwed his eyes shut. 

“What happened?” Phil asked. He gently took Techno’s hands off the sash, and held Tommy’s arm in his hand as he began unwrapping it. 

“I was training, and I didn’t hear him come up behind me. He didn’t know my sword was sharp, and he got too close, and then he startled me, and I turned and-“ Techno broke off and turned his head away sharply. Phil could figure out the rest. 

Wilbur reached out with the hand that wasn’t around Tommy’s shoulders and patted Techno’s shoulder. 

\----------------

Phil finished unwrapping the sash and dropped it to the ground. Tommy’s upper arm had a big gash, almost from shoulder to elbow, but surprisingly, it wasn’t bleeding heavily. The red sash was stained darker, and Techno’s hands were sticky with blood, but the wound itself was only beading with blood in a few spots. Most of the wound was sealed with a layer of frost. 

“Did you do this?” Phil asked Techno.

Techno blinked at the wound and grabbed his glasses from the floor where they had fallen. He ducked in closer to get a good look, and when he pulled back, he looked troubled. He shook his head. 

“What’s wrong?” Tommy hiccuped. “Am I gonna die?”

Phil laughed quietly and kissed the top of his son’s head. “No, Toms, you’re okay,” he said. “Look.”

Tommy hesitantly peaked at his injured arm and looked between his brothers and dad, alarmed. “Techie, did you-”

Techno shook his head. “That’s all you, Tommy.”

Tommy stared at the floor. He blinked his big blue eyes a few times, and Phil could see the cogs turning in his head. 

“Oookay,” Phil said. “We can have a crisis later. Let’s get you patched up now.” He scooped up Tommy bridal style and sent Wilbur ahead to find someone who could fetch the town doctor. Phil stopped near the door when he realized he didn’t hear footsteps behind him. Techno was sitting on the floor, his training sword held loosely in his grip. The razor-sharp icy blade was dripping pinkish water on the floor. Phil closed the door quietly.

\----------------

The frost on Tommy’s arm was melted with hot towels and he was given a half dozen stitches. His arm was set in a sling and he was given a lolly for being brave. Phil let most of the staff take the day off, and cooked dinner for his sons by himself. They ate it in the solar. Techno came to dinner, which was more than Phil had originally hoped for, but tension permeated the air. As soon as his bowl of mushroom soup was finished, Techno excused himself. He didn’t stay even when Phil promised ghost stories.

Wilbur excused himself soon after with the excuse of having a new song to work on. Phil and Tommy lapsed into silence.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said to his lap. 

Phil sighed. “Thank you for apologizing. I would say we should discuss grounding for not listening to me, but I think you’ve learned your lesson plenty,” he said, gesturing to Tommy’s arm. “But Tommy, I’m not the only one you should be apologizing to. Techno cares about you a lot, and you scared him today. I know you just got excited and you wanted to hang out with your older brother, but you know better than to go behind someone with a weapon in their hands.”

Tommy nodded, cheeks turning red. 

Phil stood and collected their bowls. He ruffled Tommy’s soft blond hair. “Now, with that out of the way, I’m proud of you for getting your powers, Tommy. You should be proud, too. We’ll start training when your arm’s all better.” Tommy’s smile was so wide it made his nose crinkle, and he was missing a tooth. Phil kinda wanted him to stay that young forever. “You should get some sleep. Come get me if your arm hurts too much.”

Tommy nodded. “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too, Toms.”

After washing the dishes, Phil blew out the lanterns in his kitchen and his study. It was still pretty early, but it was getting closer to the winter equinox, and night was reaching into daylight hours more and more each day. He shuffled down the hallway to his bedchamber, extinguishing lanterns as he went. Quiet guitar music was coming from Wilbur’s room. The next door, Techno’s, was open the tiniest bit, and Phil heard Tommy’s voice from inside. He stopped near it to listen in on his sons’ conversation.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Techie,” Tommy said. “I’m really sorry.”

It was quiet for a minute, and then Phil heard sheets rustle. He peeked through the crack in the door and saw Techno helping Tommy up into his bed. Tommy looked up at Techno like he hung the moon and stars. He always had. Phil hoped he would continue to do so as he got older; Techno was a great role model for Tommy.

Techno took off his glasses and started fiddling with the arms. “It’s okay, Tommy. And I’m sorry I hurt you. It’ll never happen again.”

Tommy lunged forward and wrapped his good arm around Techno. Techno was never that good with physical affection, and Phil could see him freeze up. Tommy didn’t seem to notice, burying his head in the crook of Techno’s neck. Techno brought his arms up around his baby brother’s back and rested his chin on Tommy’s head. Phil tiptoed away, leaving his sons to have their moment in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...but for all their blessings, the royal family was twice as cursed.
> 
> Curses part 1 should be up Sunday.  
> Comments are always appreciated!


	3. Curses Part I: Achilles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst time :)  
> Wilbur is first in line, then Techno, then Tommy.
> 
> Also, shoutout to the person who bookmarked this and tagged it "frozen but sbi." You get it.

Wilbur was always a romantic. His dad would say that he was cursed to love too much. People, ideas, songs, daydreams. He fell in love just a little bit with every new person he met and it always broke his heart when they would leave. When he and Techno were ten and moved from the public village school to private tutoring, Wilbur was devastated about leaving his classmates. Techno wasn’t; he knew that it would be hard to keep friends when you’re in line for the throne.

Wilbur was great at romanticizing life, and he was constantly dreaming of action and adventure and the kind of love reserved for soulmates. He dreamed of a romance that would sweep him off his feet and act as a muse for dozens of songs. He could get lost in his head for hours, imagining everything from meet-cutes in the market to saving someone from dangerous mobs to being saved from the same mobs.

In one iteration, she was blond. In another, she had black hair. It was long then short, curly then straight. Her eyes were icy gray one time, warm brown the next. Sometimes she would wear glasses like him. She would usually be short (at 6’5”, almost everyone was short to him) but sometimes she would be tall and willowy, someone he wouldn’t have to bend down to kiss. 

The girl in his dreams was nothing like the real one. He found her in a snowstorm one early December evening while on a walk. Wilbur really liked walking during snowstorms since no villagers were out and it could be quite peaceful. Well, no villagers except for her. She was stumbling blindly through icy fields, walking north although the only civilization was south. She held a shawl tight around her shoulders, and her exposed fingers were blue. She looked to be around his age, sixteen going on seventeen, which was far too young to be walking the fields without an adult who knew the ways of surviving in the harsh landscape. 

He introduced himself as just Wilbur, not as the prince. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe the lack of recognition in her eyes was exciting. She yelled over the howling wind that her name was Sally. 

“I know where the village is. Can I take you there?” he told her. He had to bend way down to get close to her ear. 

She nodded. Her gray eyes were unfocused. “I’m going to carry you,” he said, and he waited for her to nod again before crouching in front of her. She locked her arms around his neck and he got his hands under her knees to help her stay on. She was shivering, and Wilbur wished that he hadn’t given up wearing a cape years ago so he could wrap it around her.

Wilbur began walking south as quickly as he could, and if he used his magic to stay steady on the icy patches and the several-feet-deep snow, well, no one had to know. He was never more glad for his powers than when he found her. 

Wilbur took her to the first house he saw that had a light on. It was the home of a woodworker who his father was friends with. Her house was on the outskirts of town, at the base of the hill the castle sat on top of. Wilbur banged on the door with all his might and prayed that she would hear it over the raging storm. Sally had stopped shivering and was just barely keeping a grip on Wilbur. His heart was pounding. He had only just met the girl, but he was desperate to save her.

The woodworker opened her door the smallest amount possible to let him in. Before the door closed all the way, he flicked his wrist and all the snow that had blown in found its way back out. 

“Your Highness?” asked the woodworker.

“Please,” he said. “I found her in the fields. Hypothermia is setting in. Please help her.”

The woodworker gestured for him to follow her up the stairs to the second floor where the woodworker’s flat was. He laid her on the small bed in the woodworker’s guest room. 

“Light a fire,” the woodworker said. “I’ll get blankets and hot water.”

“Thank you. I owe you a tremendous debt.”

The woodworker bowed a bit. “Of course, Your Highness.”

“Just Wilbur, please.”

She smiled, tight-lipped, and went to fetch the blankets.

Wilbur stayed and helped the woodworker until they were sure she was going to make it through the night. He promised the woodworker that he would pay her back however she wanted. “Just name your price,” he said. “I’ll come back tomorrow to check on her and hear your answer.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Your Highness,” said the woodworker.

Regretfully, Wilbur crammed his hair back into his red beanie and took his leave. He spent the whole walk home crafting an excuse to tell his dad as to why his ‘short walk’ took hours, but all the lanterns were out when he got back. He fell asleep as soon as he fell into bed. It was the first night in years he hadn’t daydreamed before sleep. 

Wilbur snuck out to the woodworker’s house the next evening when the storm had calmed. Sally still looked a bit weak, but she was beautiful. Her cheeks were rosy and dusted with freckles, and her curly hair was bright red. She looked like fire, and Wilbur, who was so sick of the cold and ice and snow, thought he was in love. 

They talked for hours, whispering to each other in the dark. She was a shapeshifter, she told him, gesturing to the barely visible glittering scales on her neck. A salmon.

He told her, “You’re in the wrong country, love. All of our water comes from deep underground.”

She smiled like he said something funny, and the fire danced in her eyes.

After a moment, he spoke up again. “I have to know,” he said, “why were you out in the fields during a storm?”

Her smile grew wider. “Fate tells me where to go,” she said. Then she pulled him in for a kiss.

He stayed with her in the guest room that night. When he woke at dawn, she was already gone. The woodworker told him she had left on a trade ship headed to some faraway kingdom. He didn’t write a song for months after she left. All of the what-ifs and what-could-have-beens wore his heart ragged. He thought he would never see her again. 

A letter came for him the day after Techno returned from his trip to the beastlands. Wilbur hadn’t seen Sally in almost two years. He knew because the storm season was back upon them, and it always made him think of her. He hadn’t told anyone about her, not even his twin whom he shared everything with. She had started to fade in his mind, becoming just another one of his daydreams. It wasn’t until he closed the door to his bedchamber and opened the letter that she became real again.

_ Wilbur, _

_ I’m not sure how to start this letter. I’ve tried a dozen times and nothing feels right. First, I suppose I should apologize for leaving you without a goodbye. Fate spoke to me that morning, and I always answer her call. I meant to write to you as soon as I could, but then I found out that you were the prince of the Antarctic Empire, and frankly, I was scared. Why didn’t you tell me you were royalty, Wilbur? It might have changed things between us. But maybe that’s exactly why you didn’t tell me. _

_ That’s not the real reason I’m writing this. I was going to keep this a secret— I’m sure you understand a thing or two about those— but I can’t anymore. I had to share this with someone.  _

_ Wilbur, I have a son. He’s yours. He just turned one last week, and he’s the most wonderful blessing I’ve ever received. He has your eyes, and he’s a shapeshifter like me. He’s a fox. I’ve named him Fundy.  _

_ But I need you to know that I won’t let him live in your land. I want him to be able to choose his own fate without the pressure of being in the public eye the way you are.  _

_ Lastly, Wilbur, I’m so glad fate brought us together for a few days, but this letter isn’t meant to start something between us. We parted ways almost two years ago, and it needs to stay that way. I only wrote to you because the guilt of keeping your son a secret was weighing on me heavily. I’m sorry. _

_ With love, _

_ Sally _

Wilbur had a son.  _ He had a son. _ It kept echoing in his mind like a broken record. 

Techno found him sitting on bed. His hand was pressed to his mouth and he was shaking like a leaf in a storm. Techno brought Wilbur tea and stoked the fire and let Wilbur brush and braid and unbraid his hair over and over again until his fingers buzzed from overstimulation.

“I have a son,” Wilbur told his twin in the dead of night. “He’s a year old. He’s a shapeshifter like his mother; his form’s a fox.”

Techno’s breath left him in a rush. “Oh, Wilbur.”

“What do I do?”

Techno didn’t say anything until his braid was finished and Wilbur was tying the ends of hair with an elastic. “Is he in the village?”

“No,” Wilbur said. “He’s somewhere warm. With his mother.”

Techno finally turned and looked at his brother. “Give him a normal life,” he said. “Let him be a kid.”

Wilbur felt his heart shatter. He nodded, and his brother drew him into his arms.

He wrote back the next morning, asking to see his son just once. A few days later, he bribed the captain of the same trade ship Sally left on for safe passage and for silence about his voyage. With Techno’s help, he scrounged up an outfit to blend in with the commoners: black trousers, a yellow sweater, and a brown trench coat. And of course he left behind his crown in favor of his beloved red beanie. 

_ Please meet me at the southernmost tip of Pluma Island a week from now _ , he wrote.  _ Just let me see him for one day. I won’t ask for anything else. Please. I’ll be waiting for you _ . 

Two nights before the voyage, he knocked on the door to his dad’s study. He told his dad that Techno’s stories of his trip to the beastlands sounded so great that Wilbur was inspired to take his own trip. It would only be a few days trip, he promised. 

Phil easily gave him his blessing to go. After all, there was no doubt in his mind that his son would come back home. 

Wilbur left before dawn. Tommy caught him at his bedroom door. He was in his pajamas, and he held a blanket around his shoulders with the arm that wasn’t in a sling. He was rubbing his eyes as he asked, “Wilby? Where are you going?”

Wilbur tried to hide “Just on a little trip, Toms. I’ll be back in a few days.”

Tommy’s head snapped up. “Days?”

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Wilbur promised. “Keep practicing making snowballs, yeah? I want a proper snowball fight when I’m back.”

Tommy’s eyes shone with unshed tears, but he put on a brave face and nodded.

Wilbur ruffled Tomy’s hair as he passed. “Good lad. Love you, Toms!”

As Wilbur rounded the corner, he heard Tommy whisper, “Love you, too.”

Pluma Island was warm. Pleasant for a normal person, hot enough to make anyone with Wilbur’s kind of magic feel like they were melting. He rolled up his pants legs and sweater sleeves, and he ditched his hat and coat on the ship. They docked mid-morning and the sun climbed steadily higher as he waited on the beach. It started to set and his hopes went down with it. He stripped off his boots and socks and stepped into the salt water splashing onto the shore. The current was icy cold and for a second he felt relief.

“You should have given me more time to prepare,” a voice said behind him.

A wave crashed into his ankles and he almost toppled over. Sally was waiting for him on the shore, a bundle in her arms. Wilbur rushed to greet her with open arms, and she passed him the bundle. The sight of his son’s sleeping face brought him to his knees, and Sally hiked up her skirts to sit with him.

Fundy had his mother’s red hair and velvety-soft fox ears. He blinked open his little eyes, and they were brown like Wilbur’s. Fundy looked up at him curiously and reached out a tiny hand to grab at Wilbur’s glasses. 

Wilbur took his son’s tiny hands in his own. Elation bubbled in his chest, and he laughed until he cried. “Hi Fundy,” he said. “I’m your dad.”

Fundy smiled widely and giggled. It was the sweetest music Wilbur had ever heard.

When he handed Fundy back to Sally so she could feed him, her hand grazed his. “You’re always so cold,” she said. “Will he be like that?”

Wilbur shrugged. “When he comes into his powers. If he does. The gods might not grant him our abilities since he already has yours.”

She shook her head, her fiery curls bouncing. “I wish you’d told me you had powers when we met. I thought you were so cold because of the storm outside.”

He sighed. “I should’ve told you. I guess I just wanted to be normal for a little while.”

Wilbur stayed up all night, holding his son in his arms. Sally stayed with him. They whispered to each other like they did that night two years ago, so they wouldn’t wake their sleeping son. She told him about the job she got as a chef and about the milestones Fundy was hitting. He cooed in his sleep and scrunched his button nose. Wilbur rocked him until he calmed.

The sun’s rays began to shine over the horizon, and Wil knew his trip was coming to an end. He held his son tighter in his arms and closed his eyes. Maybe if he tried hard enough, the sun would stop shining and he’d have a little more time with his son. 

But soon enough, the ship blew its horn signaling time to board, and Wilbur had to let go. Sally walked him to the docks so he could hold Fundy a little longer.

As they wove their way through the streets, Wilbur turned to Sally and asked, “Every once in a while, would you send me an update? Just a picture or a drawing he made or a quick summary of what’s going on in his life. Please? And let me know if you need anything, ever. No ask is too big.”

She put her hand on his arm and he stopped. She turned him gently so he was facing the docks he had dreaded seeing. He didn’t expect to be there so soon. He thought they still had a ways to go. He thought he still had time. 

Sally stood on her tiptoes to kiss Wilbur’s cheek. She held out her hands, but Wilbur didn’t move. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet. He didn’t feel like he ever could be. 

“I can’t,” he said. “Not yet.” His plea was lost in the white noise of the sea. 

The captain blew their horn once again. It was now or never. 

Sally reached up and took their son away from him. “Goodbye, Wilbur,” she said. 

Wilbur left his heart in the hands of his son, and it took everything in him not to get off the boat and beg Sally to let him stay and be a father. Silent sobs made his shoulders shake as the island disappeared into the distance. 

Once he had no more tears to cry and the sea breeze dried his face, Wilbur took out paper and a quill, and he wrote a song. Not about Sally, but about Fundy. He knew he was cursed to love too much, and Fundy would always be his Achilles heel. But, hey, at least it would be good material for his symphonies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the last we'll see of Wilbur's little champion. :)
> 
> Side note, I used the old SMPEarth maps to find a Central/South American country for Wilbur and Sally to meet at, and I picked Pen Island because who doesn’t love Quackity. However, last night I was about to fall asleep and thought, “pen island…. penisland…. WAIT A MINUTE.” So it became Pluma Island. I’ve already stooped low enough to write a serious chapter about a man who canonically fucked a salmon, but I guess pen island is where I had to draw the line.  
> Welp.
> 
> Techno’s chapter should be up Tuesday.  
> Comments are always appreciated!


	4. Curses Part II: The Prodigal Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Techno! There's a little more wholesome 'SBI being a family' kinda stuff in this chapter, which is my favorite thing to write.
> 
> Also, I completely forgot to say it earlier, but the way I designed SBI's Antarctic Empire clothes is based on some beautiful art by tamsketches on instagram! Specifically this post: https://www.instagram.com/p/CIcrJ_gFdNj/?igshid=c8mp2depma5j
> 
> Enjoy!

Techno’s curse was restlessness. The doctors called it ADHD, Wilbur—ever the romantic— called it wanderlust. He was always moving, pacing the shelves of the library or training in his gym or animatedly rambling to Wilbur.

He was always meant for something more than the barren landscape he’d grown up on, and Phil knew this. He made sure Wilbur got the same education as Techno in case his eldest abdicated the throne. He tried not to think too much about that possibility. Phil was never ready to say goodbye. 

The first time Phil had to let Techno go, he was only seventeen. Techno found Phil in his study and dropped a letter on his desk. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet as Phil read it. It was an invitation for Techno to fight Dream, a scrappy villager from a different kingdom who was quickly making a name for himself as a force to be reckoned with. He’d challenged Techno to a public match in neutral territory, the beastlands. It was a few days trip both ways, and Techno mentioned that he might stay in the city for a while after the match, just to see what was out there.

“Will you be safe?” Phil asked.

Techno smiled. “It’s a duel, Dad. Not at all. But if it makes you feel better, I can promise that I’ll make you proud.”

“I don’t care about that. Just promise me you’ll come back in one piece.” 

“That I can do.”

Wilbur brushed and re-braided Techno’s long hair the night before he left. It was just as wild as Wilbur’s, and was really unmanageable when long, but Techno never cut it. Why would he, when he had Wilbur to take care of it for him? 

After Techno disappeared through the mountain pass, they didn’t see him for almost three weeks. The twin's eighteenth birthday came and went. They threw a big party in the town square, but it just wasn't the same. Wilbur left early and Phil heard him strumming through minor chords late into the night. It was the first time in eighteen years that the twins didn’t celebrate their birthday together. 

Phil secretly wondered if Techno just wasn’t coming back. Everyone was worried about him, especially Tommy. He was close to twelve and had outgrown crawling into his dad’s bed at night years before, but one night Phil found him in Wilbur’s bed, curled up against his older brother. And then again two nights later. And almost every night after that until Techno came back.

Techno came back with a lopsided haircut, a red scar across his cheekbone, and half of the prize money. Tommy was the first to spot him, and yelled out for the rest of his family. They all rushed to put on their coats and boots and ran to the gate to welcome him. Phil was the first to greet him when he swung off his horse. He ran his thumb over the new scar on his son’s face. 

“Welcome home, son,” he said. Tommy rushed forward to wrap his brother in a hug. Wilbur joined from the other side, and Phil put his arms around all three of them. 

“I can’t believe you cut your hair,” Wilbur said.

Techno laughed. “Wasn’t my choice.”

Wilbur tugged on a strand. “It suits you.”

Techno showed up to dinner that night with a straight cut and his hair half-up with a collection of small braids throughout. Wilbur showed up a few minutes after him, looking pleased with himself.

The second time Phil let his son go was almost a year later. Techno and Wilbur were close to nineteen and Tommy was twelve.

Techno didn’t have a letter to hand to Phil this time. He stood in front of his desk, hands pulling at loose threads on his sash while he explained the trip to the king.

“It’s an expedition,” he said. “Dream discovered this new mob in the Nether that they’ve been calling a piglin, and he’s getting a group together to go back and study them.”

Phil hummed. “I didn’t think you were much into science.”

“‘Course not, Dad. They just want someone who’s good with a sword.”

“Promise you’ll come back in one piece?”

“Always,” Techno said. 

No one knew how long the trip would take— time worked differently in the Nether— so Techno packed a month’s worth of food. And it would be hot in the Nether, so Wilbur braided Techno’s hair as best as he could and Techno traded in his thick overcoat and fur-lined cape for breathable cotton trousers and a linen shirt. Only his steel-toed boots with the blue Sun symbol of the Antarctic Empire showed where he was from.

Techno left before the Sun rose one day, and they didn’t hear from him for the entire month. Phil woke up one morning, colder than ever, and knew in his heart that something was wrong. His bad feeling stayed with him through breakfast with Wilbur and Tommy, and was confirmed when he was hand-delivered a letter with the seal of the kingdom of Prince George, a close friend of Dream’s who had been designated to play middle man between those on the expedition and their loved ones in the Overworld.

The letter stated it plain and simple: the expedition had been a failure. Every soul on that trip had been lost to the Nether. 

Black shrouds were placed throughout the castle that day and every flag was lowered to half mast. Tommy locked himself in his room, and ice covered the door from the inside and creeped through the little space under it. Black mourning clothes were delivered to the family that evening by the royal seamstresses. The palace, once full of vibrant whites and blues, now sat cold and dark. A tomb for the family within it. 

Later that week, the king had to pick a coffin for his son, one that would be buried empty. That day, he had to let his son go for the third time.

Tommy wouldn’t let Phil in the morning of the funeral, but he let Wilbur in. Phil still had to fix Tommy’s tie and straighten Wilbur’s crown when they left Tommy’s room. Wilbur’s current crown would soon be replaced with a crown like Techno’s, a gaudy one made of gold and colorful jewels, made for the successor to the throne. But for now, he wore his favorite crown- one with thin silver spikes, glittering with diamonds and lapis like falling snow.

The three of them had a quiet breakfast. No one ate much. Wilbur downed a cup of tea, black. His puffy eyes had dark bags under them. Phil was sure he didn’t look much better.

Tommy picked at a piece of toast, but his mouth was tightly shut. His back was hunched and his shoulders were pulled in tightly, like a supernova about to collapse in on itself. He hadn’t said much since they got the news. Without his laughter and Wilbur’s music, the palace has fallen silent. Palace staff whispered to each other that it felt like the royal family was just as dead as their lost prince.

Phil reached over the table to pour Wilbur and himself new cups of tea when a piercing scream echoed down the hallway. Phil dropped the teapot, and it spilled boiling tea all over their plates.

Phil and Wilbur drew swords made of ice out of thin air and crept to the door. Tommy stayed behind, though he grabbed a fork and held it like a weapon, just in case. 

The scene they came across was not one Phil could have ever dreamed of. Someone wearing a red cloak with the hood pulled up was frantically shushing a palace worker, who was crying on the floor with her hand over her mouth. Their face was hidden in shadow, but their frantic movements betrayed just how panicked they were.

“Hey!” Phil shouted. “Who are you? Remove your hood at once!”

They froze. “I can’t,” they said. They spoke at barely above a whisper, but Phil thought their voice sounded familiar. 

“That wasn’t optional, mate,” Wilbur said. He raised his sword towards the intruder. “It was an order from your king. I’d suggest you comply, or the gallows might be in your future.”

“You don’t understand,” they said a bit louder. They sounded awful, like they hadn’t had a drink of water in days. They turned slowly to the king and his son. They slowly raised hands covered in black mittens, no doubt stolen from the village. Light caught on the symbol on their boots. Steel-toed boots, with a glittering Sun on them. 

Phil’s sword fell out his hand, melting away to nothing in a matter of seconds. “Techno?”

He rushed forward, Wilbur right behind him. The worker scrambled to her feet and ran away, her laundry basket forgotten on the floor.

Wilbur didn’t let go of his sword. Whoever that was, wearing Techno’s shoes and speaking with his voice, wasn’t his twin. His twin had been lost to the Nether. He could _feel_ it.

“Before I take this off,” the imposter said, “you have to promise me you’ll hear me out.”

Phil nodded, already reaching for the cloak. The imposter beat him to it, lifting the hood off their head. 

Before them stood a piglin, wearing Techno’s glasses and gold crown and bearing the same scar on his cheek.

“I told you I would make it home in one piece,” the piglin said. 

“Tell me something only Techno would know,” Wilbur said. He was pacing in front of the fireplace in the solar, ten paces each way. The piglin sat in a chair facing the fire, holding a cup of tea between his mittens. Phil stood in the shadowy spot next to the fireplace. His gaze flickered between Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy, who was staring at the piglin from the cushioned bench set in the bay window. 

The piglin thought for a moment. Wilbur hated to admit it, but when the piglin was deep in thought, his red eyes looked so similar to Techno’s.

“Have you seen that fox recently?” the piglin asked. 

Wilbur stopped mid-step. He turned gray like he’d seen a ghost, and backed away from the piglin til he was so close to the fireplace Phil was worried his trousers might catch fire. 

“Wilbur?” asked Tommy. 

Wilbur rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Does that mean he’s not lying?” Tommy asked Phil.

Phil turned to the door Wilbur had just left through. “I can’t imagine how that reaction would come from anything but the truth.”

Tommy launched himself out of the window seat and over to Techno to wrap his small arms around his brother. “I missed you a lot,” Tommy whispered. Techno hugged him back just as tight.

After Phil got Tommy tucked in bed and checked on Wilbur— he didn’t open his door, but confirmed with a grunt that he was alive— he stoked the fire and sat down next to Techno.

“Tell me everything,” he said.

The fire glowed in Techno’s red eyes and reflected on his glasses. “I should’ve died, Dad.” 

The expedition was doomed from the moment they entered the Nether. The portal was lost to an explosion that cost two of the twelve their lives. Three more lives were lost to a second new mob called hoglins in a way too brutal for Techno to describe. They hadn’t really expected to find hostile mobs, and were woefully unprepared. Every time they tried to set up camp, something would find them— ghasts, wither skeletons, blazes... A week into the expedition, they were down to six. They finally found a piglin colony to study, but the colony took one look at them and launched an all out attack. Dream said they weren’t a hostile mob, but something must have changed. However, curiously, they didn’t attack Techno. Knowing a losing battle when he saw one, he ran. Like a coward. 

With everyone else presumed dead, Techno wandered the Nether. He knew it was pointless, and he was just waiting for food to run out or a mob to take him out. At some point, he passed out from exhaustion. He dreamt of a man with empty white eyes who asked him how much his life was worth. _Your fate has already been negotiated once,_ the empty-eyed man said _. We can’t start playing favorites._

_My family, I can’t leave them,_ Techno begged. _Not like this._

The man hummed. _How much would you give to go home?_

_Everything_.

When he awoke, the heat of the Nether was bearable, almost pleasant, and his skin was pink. A half-finished portal stood before him with a chest containing everything he needed waiting off to the side. 

“I went through and a horse was tied and saddled on the other side. I think you get the rest.”

“Oh, Techno,” Phil said. The fire was just glowing coals now, and it cast eerie shadows on his face. It etched out the lines in his face when he frowned.

Phil spent weeks pouring over the magical textbooks in the library. Eventually, he came across a talisman that promised to return what was lost. It called for special moonflowers that bloomed in the only green part of the kingdom, on the other side of their land. Phil made that trip late at night and returned as the first rays of sunlight broke through the horizon. He prepared the talisman, crushing the moonflowers and some lapis, and breaking off a piece of his soul and magic. 

He presented it to his son as soon as it was finished. As it slipped over his head, his piglin features began to melt away and Phil saw a glimpse of the son he knew. But he had already lost his son thrice over, and he would never get his son back. Not all the way. Techno’s hair grew back to the braid Wilbur had done for the trip, but it stayed pink. His skin faded back to the pale color it was before, but he still had tusks and pig ears and red eyes. 

Phil pulled his son into his embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he said. 

Techno sagged in his arms. “Thanks for trying, Dad.” 

He tucked the talisman under his shirt and vowed never to take it off so that he could be at least mostly human. Technoblade remained cursed to live between worlds, half-human and half-piglin. And he would be damned if he wasn’t grateful for the second chance he’d been given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any guesses about who the empty-eyed man is? :)
> 
> I just wanted to note that in this chapter, I use a very limited view of what ADHD is. It's not just restlessness or wanderlust, it's a whole network of symptoms that as a psych major, I could go on about for hours. I tried to make this a little more clear in how Techno rambles to Wilbur and hyperfocuses on tasks. I hope it makes sense.
> 
> Lastly, Tommy's chapter will probably be up Friday, and we'll get to see more of the aftermath of what happened to Techno. It might get delayed, though, because it's not quite finished yet and my sister is leaving for college Thursday, so I've been trying to spend as much time with her as I can.
> 
> Have a great week!


	5. Curses Part III: Theseus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has a penchant for violence, a surprise guest joins the cast list, and teenagers are just the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a week it's been for the fandom, especially for SBI fans! I'm gonna keep living in my happy SBI-is-a-family world and ignore the past few streams. Also, about Sad-ist’s animatic... I’m definitely gonna find a way to weave Philza’s magic cape-wings into this story. The way Sad-ist drew them was beyond gorgeous.
> 
> And to everyone who has taken the time to write a nice comment, thank you!! You don’t know how many times I’ve reread all of them. I really appreciate it. 💜
> 
> Enjoy!

Determination was Tommy's strong suit. He knew how to use it to get what he wanted. But sometimes it wasn’t so great, and he had a big pink scar on his arm to prove it. He wasn’t really upset about the scar; Wilbur told him it made him look cool. Mostly, he was just upset that he didn’t get to train with Techno after all. 

Tommy always cared so deeply about his family. In his eyes, Techno hung all the heavenly bodies in the night sky, Wilbur was responsible for every beautiful song ever heard, and Phil crafted the world in his hands. They were gods to him, and he wanted to be just like them. But he was so determined to see the good, he missed all the bad. He missed how Wilbur longed for more attention than he got being the middle child and it made him jealous sometimes, how Techno threw himself into things to the point of forgetting all else, even the people he loved and the promises he made. Those things didn’t matter to Tommy. The love he held in his heart for them was unconditional and filled him to the brim. He thought he didn’t have any room left to love anything else. 

It didn’t exactly make him popular in primary school. He was already untouchable based on his family’s status, and the fact that he only ever wanted to talk about his brothers didn’t win him any favors. He hated to admit it, but he was lonely. Ever since Wilbur and Techno turned sixteen, they seemed to have less and less time for him, which was just great because it was then that Tommy was pulled out of public school and started private tutoring. 

He’s given his all to his older brothers and they didn’t return it. They couldn’t really, so busy with expeditions that he was “too young to come on” or with learning how to stand properly and smile perfectly and address the leaders of far away places like Newfoundland and Business Bay. 

Around the time that Techno and occasionally Wilbur began to join Phil on political trips to foreign countries, Tommy started going on expeditions of his own. He liked wandering deep into the forest with nothing but a torch and a compass enchanted to point home. Sometimes he’d go so deep that nighttime seemed permanent and things rattled and hissed and groaned in the darkness. His lantern kept him safe, though. The things in the dark couldn’t stand light.

He went way more frequently after Techno came back from the Nether. It was an interesting time for the royal family. First, Phil had to delay the funeral by a day while they dealt with the mysterious mob that broke into the palace, and the next day he gave a speech declaring his son miraculously alive, but he offered no explanation for how he survived and told the confused crowd that the miracle boy wouldn’t be making an appearance for a while. He asked for privacy, and the palace remained shuttered for weeks. Slowly, the black shrouds came off and life returned to the palace, in all rooms but one. Phil shut himself away from his family, pouring over books for ways to fix his son. Wilbur kept to himself, too, trying to reconcile the twin he knew with the one that came back to him. Techno didn’t leave his room at all. 

It was the loneliest time in Tommy’s life. 

The palace started to feel oppressive, and it made his skin crawl. He constantly felt the need to get out. So he did. He put on his favorite cape and a pair of tall boots, picked up a lantern and the magic compass his dad gave him for his birthday that always pointed home, and left. He would walk for hours, any- and every-where. 

On one of his expeditions, he found an old cobblestone road half-buried in snow and followed it to an abandoned village. Snowdrifts piled up on the sides of homes with yellowed windows and cobwebs in every corner. Tommy kicked at a locked door until the old, warped wood around the handle gave way. The door wouldn’t budge more than a few inches no matter how hard he pushed on it, so he held his lantern up to the crack in the door and peaked in. The roof had collapsed in and snow had poured into the house, creating a steep snowy hill from the ceiling to the front door. Wind hollowed through the jagged opening at the top of the house. It looked like the mouth of the monsters from his dad’s ghost stories.

He kept walking through the village until he found a house in better shape than the rest. It was a low bar, honestly. The house still looked awful; the windows were dirty and the roof was sagging. But the door opened without him having to kick it, so he crept in with his lantern held out in front of him. The first floor was all one room. A stove, sink, and ice box bordered the wall to the left, a table and chairs sat straight ahead, and to his right, a fireplace with a couch in front of it spilled snow onto the wood floor. Melted candles sat in every window, a layer of dust on each one. He pouted when he didn’t see any chests. He wanted something cool to bring back and flaunt to his brothers.

In the back left corner, a staircase creaked and groaned every time a gust of wind made the house shift. He put one foot on the first stair and slowly lowered his weight onto it. The wood flexed under his boot, but it didn’t snap. He counted to three and put his other foot on the second stair. Same thing happened. He counted to three and moved his left foot to the next stair. Up and up he went, slow as molasses, until he reached the second floor landing.

Unlit torches lined the hallway. There were three doors, one on his side and two on the other. He started with the door on his side, and found a small bathroom. There was no shower, just a toilet, sink, and bath. Someone had wiped away some of the grime on the mirror, just below his eye level. It didn’t look that recent, but he decided to hurry up just in case.

The first bedroom he entered had a narrow bunk bed pushed against one wall and a chest under the window that was on the other wall. The closet door was open, showing off nothing but a small, moth-eaten green sweater. 

He made a beeline for the chest and undid the rusty latch with a bit of force. Inside were a few rotten apples, the sickly sweet smell making him cough, and a gold nugget and an iron helmet glowing with an enchantment. He picked up the helmet to take to Techno. He would be able to tell Tommy what the enchantment was. 

The wood shifting seemed to get louder in the direction of the last room. Almost like someone was walking around in there. Tommy bolted up, and the chest slammed closed behind him. The footsteps in the other room stopped. 

Tommy closed his eyes and tried to conjure up a sword made of ice the way his dad and brothers would, but all he could get was a thin icicle. He took a deep breath to steel himself and tiptoed into the hallway. He started to creep past the room to the stairs, and something whizzed by his ear. An arrow lodged itself in the wall by his head. Through the crack in the door, he could see the empty eye sockets of a skeleton and its boney hand nocking another arrow. The helmet and icicle tumbled out of his hands. He ran for the stairs and jumped down them, two at a time. He left the house as fast as he could, leaving footprints made of frost in his wake.

He wandered further into the village. Houses lined the cobblestone road, which intersected with another cobblestone road in the town center. The trees were thin there, sunlight sparkling on the icicles hanging from the slanted roof of the wellhouse. A grimy bell hung next to the well. Tommy rang it a few times. It echoed down the empty streets.

“Dad?” a voice called. One of the houses nearby came to life. A torch lit up in the window next to the door, which creaked open a second later. A boy peeked out. He had brown hair that hung in his eyes and was wearing a sweater that looked too thin for the weather. In one hand, he held a torch. In the other, a dirty bee plushy that seemed to be missing a wing. “You’re not my dad,” the boy said.

Tommy shook his head. “I’m Tommy.”

Tubbo took a step closer. His shoes were badly scuffed and the front of one of them was almost worn away. “I’m Tubbo. What are you doing? My dad said no one comes out here.”

“I was just exploring. Do you live here?”

Tubbo nodded.

“Oh,” Tommy said. “Do you wanna go exploring with me?”

Tubbo’s face broke into an excited grin. “I just need to leave a note for my dad,” he said. He went back into his house, gesturing for Tommy to follow. While he went looking for a pencil and scrap of paper, Tommy looked around. Their house looked bad. The wood floor was warped, broken in a few spots, and there was barely any furniture. Two sleeping bags sat in front of the dying fireplace, along with a pile of worn blankets.

“All done!” Tubbo said. He left the note on the wobbly table in the corner and bounded back over to Tommy. “Let’s go!”

They went from house to house, mostly finding rotten food and caved-in roofs. They also found a few old maps and some leather boots. Tubbo replaced his old shoes with the boots, and when he started shivering, Tommy gave him his cape. Tubbo was just as skinny as him but a few inches shorter, so the cape went down to his knees.

Tommy left that afternoon with an old treasure map and a promise to return. It wasn’t much, probably not enough to get his brothers’ attention that evening, but at least he made a new friend. It would be another quiet night in the castle, but hopefully he could see Tubbo again the next day. He just about skipped out of the not-so-abandoned village, and didn't stop until he got to where the cobblestone road was too broken up to follow. He pulled out his magic compass to follow the rest of the way home, but it was spinning in rapid circles. Sometimes it pointed at the village behind him, sometimes at the palace in front of him, and sometimes in a different direction way out west.

As he stood on that long-forgotten road with a broken compass, he found the determination he was known for waning. A zombie groaned in the distance. “Yeah, tell me about it,” he said. 

By the time he made it back, the Sun was beginning to set, bathing the sky in bright pinks and oranges. As he neared the castle, he could make out someone standing in front of the gate. 

“Uh oh,” Tommy said under his breath. The person waiting for him was Phil, and he didn’t look happy. His arms were crossed. He hadn’t yet taken off the black cape from when they were in mourning, saying it would be in poor taste considering many still lost their lives on that fateful trip, and it flapped behind him like giant wings. Tommy wondered who he was still mourning. He didn’t know Dream or any of the other members of the expedition, and they’d gotten Techno back! Tommy wished he’d stop wearing it. He thought his dad looked so much more intimidating with it than with his old soft blue cape. 

“It’s late,” Phil said. “What were you doing?”

Tommy scuffed his foot back and forth on the ground. “Exploring.”

Phil sighed. “Don't do that again. You scared me.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

Phil brushed some dirt off Tommy’s shoulder, and Tommy leaned into his touch. His dad had been so busy recently, and he hadn’t gotten that many hugs in the past few days. Not that he’s ever ask for one. 

“Let’s go have dinner,” Phil said. 

Phil was serious about not letting Tommy do that again, and so Tommy was to remain on castle grounds. He hated being cooped up inside, but eventually, it got better. When Phil finally made the charm that made Techno look (mostly) like his old self, it felt like everyone breathed a sigh of relief. He and Wilbur stayed up late one night while Wilbur braided his newly-pink hair, and that seemed to have repaired their relationship. 

Tommy was over the moon. He didn’t care if his brother was a pig or a bird or a bee or a human, so long as he read Tommy stories and helped him prank Wilbur on occasion, he was good enough for Tommy. Sure, he still didn’t see much of Techno or Wilbur, but he could make do with the little he was starting to get back.

The day came to reintroduce Techno to the kingdom. It would be fine, Phil reassured them. Hybrids weren’t uncommon in their land, he said. That made Wilbur frown, though Tommy wasn’t sure why. 

A festival was set up in the village square, and it would be kicked off at noon by the royal family. They all dressed in their finest outfits and Phil helped them set crowns on top of their curls. Techno’s talisman glowed faintly through his shirt. A carriage was waiting to take them into the village. Techno and Wilbur sat on one side, Phil and Tommy facing them. Techno stared out the window the whole way down. His hands were shaking. Wilbur took one in his own and started tapping out a steady rhythm on Techno’s knuckles. Phil put one hand on Techno’s knee and the other on Tommy’s. He squeezed gently— just a reminder that he was there.

A crowd had already formed in the town square. Children ran around, bundled in puffy coats and long, knit scarves. People milled about, chatting with their neighbors. An ice skating rink had been set up on a frozen pond, and a line curled around it. Everyone gathered around the carriage when it stopped, hoping to catch a glimpse of the royal family. Guards set up a perimeter to allow the family some space, and then they filed out of the carriage. Phil went first, then Wilbur. He fixed Techno’s crown before he stepped out and gave his twin a reassuring smile. Techno tried to return it, his sharp lower teeth poking out, but his face fell as soon as Wilbur was gone. Tommy stepped out next, and Techno followed a few seconds later. Techno fell in line in between Wilbur and Tommy, and lifted his head to look at the crowd. The villagers fell silent. Techno flinched as if struck and looked to his dad with pleading eyes. 

Phil put on the smile he only used in front of crowds and foreign dignitaries, and stepped forward. “My sons and I,” he said, in a commanding, even tone, drawing all the attention to him, “are so pleased to spend this day with all of you, and celebrate the miraculous return of my son from a trip that sadly claimed too many lives. I think we’ve waited for this day long enough, so I’ll cut this short. Let the festival begin!”

Children began to pull their parents every which way, towards the baker’s stand or the ice rink or petting zoo. Soon, everyone was having fun, distracted from the shock of finally seeing their lost prince. Techno found a quiet corner to regroup, and Wilbur stayed with him for a while. Steam from hot cider clouded their glasses every time they took a sip. Tommy thought that was boring, so he hovered around some boys his age until they welcomed him into their game.

The festivities continued for hours. Phil spent most of it talking to his people, but he made sure to check on his sons at every opportunity. Tommy was having a great time. The village children liked the sparkly gold and diamond earrings in Techno’s new ears, and Tommy cackled while watching Techno desperately try to avoid them. Later, Tommy ate cake with the boys he knew in primary school and skated around the rink with Wilbur. It was shaping up to be a marvelous day.

He was pulled over by Phil to speak with the baker in town, and he listened politely as they discussed the wheat yield that year. His eyes wandered over to Techno, who was talking with the weapon smith. Tommy watched as someone split off from a group of whispering teenagers and crept closer to Techno, trying to blend in with the crowd. Time seemed to slow as Tommy watched them reach for the exposed cord of Techno’s talisman and rip it off his neck. Techno might have cried out, or maybe it was Tommy. Techno fell from the force of the strong pull on his neck. His crown tumbled to the ground and rolled to the teenager’s feet. 

Time started up again, and everything was too fast and _too much_. The crowd froze, staring at the piglin wearing the prince’s clothes. Wilbur ran over to his twin, pushing out his hand to form a jagged barrier of sharp ice to shield them from the crowd, almost skewering the thief. Phil and Tommy ran over as well. Phil scooped up his son’s crown and tugged the talisman out of the thief’s hands while they were still reeling away from the spikes. “Guards!” he yelled, pointing to the teenager, and then opened Wilbur’s barrier enough to slip through, closing it behind him.

Tommy went for the teenager instead of joining his family. They were taller than him, which made sense because he was twelve and hadn’t yet hit his growth spurt, but he still got close to their face and sneered. “You’re a dick,” he said. He balled his fist and punched them in the face as hard as he could.

The crowd let out a gasp. The teenager stumbled back, right into the guards’ waiting hands. Black hair cast a shadow over the top of their face, but Tommy could still see their eyes burn with rage. “Gods, it was just a fucking prank,” they yelled, “but now I’m glad I did it. Your brother’s a freak, and so are you!” Blood poured from their nose, and their voice sounded thick from it. The guards finally managed to pull them away, and then Tommy was alone in the crowd, separated from his family, his split knuckles dripping crimson onto the snow.

Tommy had his hand bandaged by his dad since the town doctor was busy setting the thief’s nose, and then he helped his dad make hot chocolate for all four of them. He loved the way Phil made it, whisking chocolate shavings, cinnamon, and heavy cream in a pot, then splitting it into four mugs and letting Tommy pour copious marshmallows on top.

Wilbur and Techno were waiting for them in the solar. Techno had taken an hour-long shower when they got back, and his bright hair hung in waves that shielded his face from everyone else.

Wilbur had a hand on his back, and was humming a soothing melody. _Hallelujah_ , or something like that. He took the mug Tommy offered him, and gestured at the bandage on his hand, which was stained pink in the middle. “You punch the fucker?” he asked.

Tommy nodded.

Wilbur winked at him. “Good lad.”

Phil settled in next to Techno and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and Tommy sat to Phil’s other side. The family sat in troubled silence. There wasn’t anything that could be said to ease this kind of pain, but they kept searching for the words.

“Tommy,” Phil said slowly, “I think your brothers and I need to have a private chat. Could you go to your room?”

Tommy sputtered. “What can they hear that I can’t?” he demanded. 

“Please, Tommy?” Techno said quietly. He didn’t look up at his baby brother, or even move at all. His voice sounded raw. 

“Fine,” Tommy said. He put his half-finished mug on the table with a heavy thud and sulked back to his bedchamber, but there was no way in hell he was going to bed just yet. He donned a different cape than before, lit a lantern, and snuck out the staff entrance to go for a walk. 

He conjured up snowballs in his hands and threw them at whatever he came across— trees, fences, sentient snow golems milling about. He was good at making snowballs. He’d gotten good when Wilbur went on his solo trip before Tommy’s twelfth birthday. They never did have that snowball fight he’d been promised, though.

Tommy circled the grounds for an hour. He probably would have kept going, but it was already late when he left, and he was dead on his feet. As he rounded the courtyard below his dad’s study, he could hear a second pair of footsteps crunching on the snow overlapping his own. He turned, peering into the darkness, and saw movement in the direction of the forest. A second later, he heard something snap and the sharp tip of an arrow grazed his good shoulder. He cried out in pain and made a break for the castle. The bones of a skeleton rattled behind him, echoing like cruel laughter.

He was sniffling as he trudged up the road leading to the castle. He could vaguely see something on the side of the road near the front gate, but the unshed tears in his eyes made it hard to see clearly. As he got closer, he rubbed the back of his uninjured hand over his face until he could see. It was a dented, soggy cardboard box, and there was something inside.

He knelt down next to it and peered in. A child was curled up in it, wrapped in Tommy’s cape. It was Tubbo. He shook Tubbo’s shoulder, but he didn’t wake. _Think, Tommy_ , _think_ , he told himself. _What would Dad do?_ Whenever he wasn’t feeling well, his dad would press the back of his hand to his forehead to check for a fever. Tommy did the same for Tubbo, and found him worryingly warm.

“Tubbo?” Tommy said in a small voice. Tubbo didn’t stir, only continuing to breathe shallowly. His bee plushy hung loose in his grip. “Help!” Tommy called. “Dad! Wilbur! Techno!”

Nobody answered. They didn’t even know he was anywhere but his bedchamber. Tommy let out a sob in desperation and sat down on the side of the road. In what was starting to be a common theme in his life, he was completely and utterly alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and so the royal family gains another member and the lost boy gains a curse.
> 
> I had the most fun with this chapter. I wanted to make it so Techno's and Wilbur’s curses are intrinsic parts of who they are while Tommy isn’t necessarily cursed, but through the shortcomings of others, his unconditional love and determination become curses in their own. I ended up rewriting this chapter twice before it finally felt right.
> 
> And to the person who commented on the last chapter that they’re gonna fight some bitches if Tommy’s curse is always being betrayed or left behind... I guess I’m bitches, and I’ll meet you in the Tesco parking lot at 3.
> 
> Curses part 4 ft. Tubbo up Monday!


	6. Curses Part IV: Lethe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tubbo no longer in a box what will he do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely didn't think this chapter would be done by today because I only had about 200 words done yesterday, but I got some shitty news last night and cranked out 4000 words instead of going to bed. Yeehaw.
> 
> Also, my twitter is @fl0ralafterdark if you want to come chat with me about SBI or set up more Tesco parking lot brawls. I don’t tweet much but I’m on a lot :)
> 
> For the Vibes, stream Baby It's Cold Outside by toxxxicsupport ft Wilbur Soot while reading. It's so good.
> 
> Enjoy!

Tubbo didn’t remember much. It might be from his fever, said the kind man who took him in, but late at night he heard the kind man whispering with someone who had a deep, monotone voice about the possibility that he had purposely been given a memory loss potion.

Tubbo still had a few memories, like falling asleep in front of a crackling fire while his dad read to him. He couldn’t remember what his dad looked like, though. No matter how hard he tried, all he could conjure up was a tall man with hair the same brown as Tubbo’s and big curved horns. Tubbo’s horns were still small, hidden in his hair. He couldn’t picture his dad’s face at all. It was just a blur, as if someone had taken the image and smudged it. 

Tubbo did remember a boy with blond hair and all-blue clothing and a funny silver thing in his hair, who gave him a cape when he got cold. They hadn’t had money for a new coat when he had outgrown his old one, and the cold burned every time he stepped outside, but he didn’t want to complain to his dad. It wouldn’t do anything anyways. 

“You know whose this is?” the blurry figure of his dad asked in his memory. His voice warbled and pitched so Tubbo couldn’t make out what his voice actually sounded like. 

He nodded, twirling to show off the cape more. “It’s my friend Tommy’s!”

His dad laughed. Tubbo could remember his dad’s laugh. It was sharp, and loud. “Only you could befriend the prince without knowing,” his dad said. “Only you, kiddo.” That’s where the memory ended, like a film strip cut in the middle.

The first time Tubbo woke up in the white room, he’d barely been able to crack open his eyes, and he didn’t have the strength to move more than a finger. His head pounded, and he really just wanted his dad. It didn’t seem like he was home, though. The light pouring onto his eyelids was coming from the right from when their window at home shone to Tubbo’s left, and it smelled like sugar cookies and lemon instead of burning wood and dust. Tubbo could make out two voices, but it took him a while to make out what they were saying.

“Dad…” the first voice said. It sounded like his friend Tommy. 

“You should know better than to go for a walk alone late at night without telling anyone. You _do_ know better,” the other voice (Tommy’s dad?) said. “But I’m not mad, Tommy, I’m glad you came and woke me so we could help your friend. And I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. It’s been a really tough few weeks for all of us, but that shouldn’t stop me from being there for you and noticing that you were gone. I’m sorry, Toms.”

“I’m sorry, too, Dad.” It sounded like Tommy was sad. Tubbo didn’t want him to be sad. He tried to move or say something to get his friend’s attention, but he was quickly pulled back down into a dreamless sleep.

The second time Tubbo woke up, he had a lot more energy, and he’d gotten so panicked when he didn’t see his dad that he started crying. The man with long-ish blond hair under a bucket hat and the man with curly brown hair and round glasses scared him when they tried to grab him, and he kicked Glasses in the stomach. A moment later, Tommy and a man who had to be a hybrid of some sort came running in, and Tubbo cried out, “Tommy!”

Glasses, still hunched over and holding his stomach, turned to Tommy. “You know him?” 

“That doesn’t matter right now, Wil,” Bucket Hat said. “Go call the doctor. Tell him our friend is awake.”

Glasses—his name was Wil, apparently— backed off and left. The hybrid followed him out. It was just Bucket Hat and Tommy at Tubbo’s bedside.

“I found your bee,” Tommy said. He held it out to Tubbo, who sniffled and pulled it close to his chest. It was a lot cleaner than usual and it smelled like lavender.

“Son,” the man next to Tommy said. “Do you remember what happened?”

Tubbo couldn’t. “No, sir,” he said. 

The man smiled at him encouragingly. “That’s alright. My son Tommy says your name is Tubbo.” Tubbo nodded. “I’m Philza. You can just call me Phil. The two older boys you saw are my twins Wilbur and Technoblade.”

Tubbo looked to his friend. “I missed you,” he said to Tommy.

“Me too,” he said. He looked down at the floor, making the silver thing in his hair glint. “I’m sorry I didn’t come see you again.”

Tubbo squeezed the bee harder. “It’s okay.”

“So Tubbo,” Phil said, “you were pretty sick when Tommy found you. How do you feel now?”

Tubbo frowned. He felt tired, and hungry, and his head still hurt, and there was this heavy spot in his chest like he was forgetting something, but he couldn’t remember what. But he did remember how he had felt before: so weak he couldn’t get out his sleeping bag in the morning, too nauseated to eat anything, his head stuffed with cotton. He had been shaking so bad his dad dumped logs onto their normally small fire until it roared, but then Tubbo had felt like he was burning up from the inside, too. 

Phil was still looking at him expectantly. “Better,” he said. 

“Good,” said Phil. “We’ll have the doctor check you out one more time, and then hopefully you can join us for lunch. We can try and get you home when you’re all better.”

Tubbo thought that was a great idea. He still couldn’t quite picture his dad, but he knew that if he went home and found him, things would get better. Things would make sense.

The doctor explained that he probably just had a flu that got so bad because it wasn’t treated, and then handed him some regen and health pots and a lolly. His old clothes were being washed and mended, so he was given some of Tommy’s: a white sweater and dark blue pajama pants. Tommy sat at the end of his bed and they had lunch in the infirmary. After, Tubbo felt well enough to walk, so Tommy appointed himself tour guide, and grabbed Tubbo’s hand to drag him around. Tommy’s hand was frigid, but Tubbo still held on.

Tubbo had never seen anything as grand as Tommy’s home. From high, vaulted ceilings hung bright glowstone chandeliers, and marble floors shone under their feet. Tommy showed Tubbo how to slide in his socks, which they did until Tubbo got tired (which was pretty fast). After, Tommy begged his dad to make them hot chocolate, and then the two boys went to what Tommy called the Great Hall to sit and drink it. Tubbo’s throat hurt, so he didn’t drink much. He mostly just used his spoon to push marshmallows into different shapes and looked around at the cavernous room. Tables longer than his entire house lined the walls, surrounding an unlit fireplace in the center. “Your house is so big,” he said.

Tommy shrugged. “It’s a palace, so it has to be big. We usually only eat in here for special occasions, though. There’s a smaller dining room upstairs.”

Tubbo gaped at him. That memory of his dad calling Tommy a prince replayed in his head. So he asked him. “Tommy, are you a prince?”

“Prince Thomas of the Antarctic Empire!” he said with a big smile. “I don’t like it when people call me Thomas, though.”

Tubbo nodded in understanding. He didn’t like it when people called him by his real name, either.

Soon after, Tommy had to go back to his lessons, and Tubbo was given a guest bedroom to take a nap in. He slept until well after the sun disappeared below the horizon. He dreamt a patchwork of spotty, disjointed memories from when he and his dad were moving around a lot. He dreamt of the bottles his dad liked that Tubbo thought smelled really bad, and his dad not waking up sometimes when Tubbo went to him because he was too scared to sleep, and having to keep all of his belongings in a backpack because sometimes they were chased out by landlords late at night. He also dreamt of the good memories: learning to swim in the ocean, dragonflies and bees and butterflies flitting around his head while he picked flowers, eating a pumpkin pie that a kind neighbor baked for them. 

Tubbo couldn’t remember a lot, but he knew they’d been all over the world, settling in empty deserts and barren plains and on the sides of mountains and near sandy beaches until the work prospects inevitably dried up and his dad made them move again. His least favorite place was the cold one. The Antarctic Empire. They didn’t have enough money to rent a place in the village, so they took up residence in the ghost town in the forest. The wind was too loud, the village too quiet. His dad was gone all the time, setting traps for rabbits, collecting sweet berries, chopping logs for their fireplace, and doing odd jobs in the real village. Usually Tubbo had other village kids to play with, but there was no one here. Until he met Tommy.

Suddenly, the dream shifted and Tommy’s smiling face changed into the blurry but clearly worried face of his dad. “ _I’m sorry, Tubbo_ ,” his dad said. Tubbo was shivering and sweating in his sleeping bag, and his dad was running a cool cloth over his forehead. “ _I’ve really screwed it up this time. You deserve a better father. Someone who can take care of you like they should._ ” Tubbo’s dad turned toward the dining room table, and Tubbo followed his eyes to the cape hung on the back of the chair.

Tubbo woke up to a knock on the door. Phil poked his head in. “Dinner’s ready. Do you feel up to joining us?”

Dinner was odd. He spent most of it watching the royal family interact. Tommy rambled to his dad about what his tutor taught him that day, only pausing to shovel bites of chicken into his mouth. Technoblade, who everyone seemed to just call Techno, spent a lot of time quietly listening to his twin Wilbur explain a new song he was writing. Tubbo studied them for a moment. They certainly looked related; the curve of their mouths and the slope of their noses were the same, and their eyes looked really similar despite the different colors. Tubbo had never heard of a hybrid without inhuman features before, but Wilbur looked totally human. But then again, so did Tubbo. At least for now, until he grew up more.

While Tubbo was spaced out, the conversation had turned to some enchantments Techno was learning. “Spells and enchantments respond a lot better now that I’m…” He trailed off, gesturing to the glowing spot under his shirt. Tubbo had noticed it earlier— the leather cord peeking out from under his collar, the purplish glow over his heart. He wondered what it was. He’d have to ask Tommy later. 

“What’s up?” Wilbur asked. He must have noticed Tubbo staring.

“You guys look like twins,” he blurted.

“I’d hope so,” Techno said. “Otherwise Dad would have some explaining to do.”

Tommy pulled Tubbo into a different conversation, and he missed the bright, meaningful smiles Wilbur and Techno shared.

At the end of the meal, Phil asked Tommy to clear the table and Wilbur and Techno to go help him. Then it was just Phil and Tubbo. 

“Tubbo,” Phil said. “Tommy told me you live in the village in the forest.” When Tubbo nodded, he continued. “I’m sure your dad is worried sick about you,” Phil continued. “I’m going there first thing tomorrow to find him, and Techno has volunteered to come with. If you feel okay, you’re welcome to come too, but if you just want to give us a description of your house, that’s perfectly fine.” 

“I’ll come with,” he said. 

Phil hummed like he expected that answer. “I’ll get someone to make you a coat tonight. I don’t think Tommy has anything you could borrow that would be warm enough.”

“Doesn’t Tommy get cold, too?” Tubbo asked.

Phil laughed. It didn’t sound anything like his dad’s laugh. “Nope! Our magic protects us.” To demonstrate, he opened his hand and a few snowflakes appeared in his palm. He blew gently and they swirled around Tubbo’s face. 

“Tommy can do that?” 

“Well.” Phil made a so-so gesture. “He’s working on it. He’s pretty good at making snowballs, though.”

Tubbo’s eyes widened. He pushed back his chair and bounded out of the room. “Tommy!” he yelled, as he ran to the kitchen. Phil’s laughter echoed behind him.

Sure enough, a puffy coat was ready for Tubbo in the morning. A seamster took Tubbo’s measurements and a whole team worked to make the coat. It was close to done before Tubbo even went to bed. They also made him a matching hat, scarf, and gloves, all in shades of blue and white. The sun symbol that flew on flags outside of the castle was stitched into all of the garments.

As the first rays of sunlight broke through the horizon, Phil and Techno guided Tubbo out to the stables to fetch their horses. Techno’s was named Carl, and he seemed very fond of it. He even let Tubbo pet its snout. Tubbo would have to be on a horse with Phil since he didn’t know how to ride, and Techno lifted him onto the back of the horse like he weighed nothing. They followed directions Tommy had given them until they got into the abandoned village, and then Tubbo directed them to his house. They passed the house he and his dad had used at first, before it got too hard to heat two stories and they had to move to a one-story house closer to the center of town.

Techno helped Tubbo off of Phil’s horse, and then Techno led the horses away to the old stable in town to rest while Phil followed Tubbo into the house. Tubbo stopped short in the doorway, and Phil nearly ran into him. It looked like they’d never been there. Their sleeping bags were gone, the torches on the walls were gone, the chest in the corner by the wobbly table was gone. He figured he’d made a mistake and just picked the wrong house, so he pushed past Phil and went to the next one. The windows in that one were all shattered, and snow had piled under them. The house smelled like mildew. Tubbo ran to the house on the other side of the first one. The door was locked, so he jammed his shoulder into it until the old wood splintered and he could force the door open. It was even worse than the previous house. A fire had claimed most of the inside, leaving the dark wood blackened and the ceiling just a gaping hole. The smell of smoke filled his lungs and made it hard to breathe. He backed away, right into Phil. 

“Tubbo? What’s wrong?” Phil asked. 

Tubbo stammered out something like “it’s gone,” and Phil knelt a little to pull him into a hug. He shushed Tubbo until his breathing evened out, then guided him back to the middle house.

He sat Tubbo down at the wobbly table, and fragments of memories of family meals and of his dad trying to teach him to read filled his head. Phil sat down across from him with a long sigh.

Phil pulled a letter out of his pocket and showed it to Tubbo. _For the king_ , the outside read in splotchy ink. “Tommy found this tied around your bee,” Phil explained. “It’s from your dad. He… I’m sorry, Tubbo, but he gave up custody of you… to me. And he admitted to erasing your memory so you wouldn’t try to find him. I was hoping I could catch him before he left and get him to reconsider, but I think we’re too late. I’m so sorry, Tubbo. This is all my fault.”

Tubbo got up out of his chair and walked over to the fireplace he and his dad used to sleep in front of. He sat down on the floor, right where his sleeping bag should be, and pulled his knees up to his chest. Tears were already flowing down his face, so he pressed his hands to his eyes to stop them. With his eyes closed, he tried desperately to think of anything, any clue or scrap of a memory that could lead them to his dad, but he came up blank. It just made him sob harder.

He felt a cold but gentle hand settle on his back and rub in soothing circles. It reminded him that his dad’s hands were always warm. Tubbo continued to cry on the floor of his old house until he exhausted himself so much that he fell asleep in Phil’s arms. He woke up a bit when Phil handed him to Techno so he could get on his horse, but he fell asleep again as soon as he was settled back against Phil. His cape was wrapped around the both of them, and Tubbo finally felt warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phil: will you please not give up your son in a misguided attempt to give him a better life  
> tubbo's dad: no  
> phil: will you please reconsider
> 
> The “You guys look like twins"/“I’d hope so" is an almost quote from my sister and I. She texted me "you look like my sister" and my immediate reaction was "i'd hope so," and I thought it would be fun to include :)
> 
> And lastly, Tommy and Tubbo angst is finally over. Since Tubbo is now unofficially part of the royal family, he needs to receive a blessing, too.  
> Blessings part 3 up tomorrow!


	7. Blessings Part III: Tubbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Tubbo's blessing! I wrote this in the same sitting as the last chapter, and I can clearly see where I finished going through the 5 stages of grief about irl bad news and consequently ended that chapter and starting writing something extra wholesome to soothe the soul. 
> 
> Also I told yall I'd find a way to add magic cape-wings to the story and I did! Pog. 
> 
> Hope you're all having a good week. Enjoy!

Tommy was so bored while his family was out looking for Tubbo’s dad, and Wilbur was no use. He helped Tommy build a snowman out back, and then brought it to life with the sole intent of mercilessly pelting Tommy with snowballs. Tommy could still hear them dully hitting his window as he sulked in the solar. Phil and Techno were back in time for dinner, but Tubbo wasn’t there. Tommy’s heart dropped down to his stomach. 

“Is Tubbo gone?” he asked.

Phil smiled sadly. “No, but he’s had a rough day. He’s taking a nap in his room, and we’re not going to bother him until he feels better, okay?”

“Okay,” Tommy echoed. “Did you find his dad?”

“No, Tommy. We’ll talk about it later, with Tubbo.”

Tommy frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t want Tubbo to be sad, and he didn’t like the worried expression his dad and Techno kept trying to hide. But maybe it would be a good thing! If Tubbo got to stay with them longer then they could have sleepovers, and tell ghost stories, and go sledding!

After dinner, Tommy was sent to his room so Phil could have a grown-up talk with Techno and Wilbur. Tommy huffed and went to his bedchamber to sulk, leaving them alone in the dining room. Laying on the floor next to his fireplace, Tommy came up with a great idea for how to make everyone feel better. Now all he needed was a sword. A t the crack of dawn, Tommy shoved pillows under his covers to make a fake-Tommy and snuck down to Techno’s gym. A collection of swords, axes, and crossbows were displayed on one wall, and some of them shone purple from enchantments. The gym was dark, so he held his lantern up to the wall while he searched for a sword that Techno wouldn’t miss. There were two iron ones on the floor, leaned against the wall. They were badly nicked and dented, and the twine wrapped around the hilts was fraying.

He picked up the less-bent one and tried to hide behind his back, under his cape. It was pretty short, shorter that Techno’s— Techno’s went to his calves while Tommy’s only hit mid-thigh— which made hiding a sword much harder.  One hand holding the sword and the other holding his lantern, he crept out of the room and toward the front gate. He tiptoed past his brothers’, dad’s, and Tubbo’s bedchambers and down to the staff entrance, which had a much smaller and more inconspicuous door than the main palace entrance.

“Tommy?” he heard behind him, right as he got his hand on the door.

He turned slowly, trying to keep the sword out of view. “Techno, hey!” he said. 

Techno blinked at him sleepily. His glasses were a little askew, and he was still in pajamas. Pink hair was falling out of his braid and hung in his eyes. “What’s behind your back?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” he said quickly. 

“Tommy,” Techno drawled, “what did you steal?”

Tommy scoffed and began a string of gibberish that sounded vaguely like an argument. So maybe he was known to steal things on occasion and squirrel them away in his bedchamber. And maybe his family sometimes called him Raccoon because of it. Didn’t mean he was stealing right now! So what if the sword behind his back was Techno’s? He was probably going to return it!

Techno reached for his arm and Tommy pushed the door open behind him and stepped through it, just barely avoiding Techno’s hand. 

“Bye-bye!” he called as he ran away, towards the forest. He didn’t bother to hide the sword anymore. If Techno wanted it back, he’d have to chase him. 

“Tommy!” Techno yelled. Tommy didn’t stop running until he was deep in the forest.

Thankfully, the skeleton was gone when he went back to that house for the helmet he dropped. He didn’t really know how to fight, so he was thankful for that. Not that he’d ever tell his family: he was already planning the story of how he bravely fought off the skeleton to get the helmet. Tommy wasn’t quite ready to go back and face Techno’s wrath, so he wandered farther into the village. It felt even emptier without Tubbo.  He looked into the old house Tubbo had lived in, and it looked completely barren. Tommy didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t seem good. There was a note on the table in the corner addressed to Tubbo’s father and shut with his dad’s wax seal. Tommy didn’t want to risk breaking the seal by trying to look in it, so he decided to leave the contents of the letter a mystery and headed back home and show Techno what he found. 

“It’s a curse of vanishing,” Techno said. He turned to look at Tommy, pushing his glasses up to rest on top of his pink hair.

“What’s that mean? Would I vanish if I put it on?”

Techno stood, pushing away from the anvil used for enchanting that they kept in the forge. He shook his head and said, “Nah, it means it would disappear when you need it most. The curse can’t be removed, so we’ll have to melt it down.”

Tommy pouted. A couple of gold nuggets was nothing to the prince of a wealthy kingdom. It wasn’t something to be displayed and flaunted like an enchanted helmet.

Techno ruffled Tommy’s hair as he passed, and went to start the fire in the blast furnace. “Don’t worry, I’ll use it for something cool. And put my sword back, you gremlin!”

“Sorry, can’t hear you!” Tommy yelled as he ran out of the room.

So that was a bust.

Tommy strolled down the hallway toward the kitchen in search of lunch. As he passed Tubbo’s room, the door opened, and out stepped a sleepy Tubbo.

“Tommy?” he said. His voice sounded all rough. 

“Tubbo!” Tommy bolted forward and hugged his friend. He set his chin on top of Tubbo’s head, but he felt something poking him so he pulled away. He filed that bit of information away for later. “I’m going to get lunch. Wanna come with?”

Tubbo nodded. “Can we make hot chocolate, too?”

“I like the way you think,” Tommy said. He grabbed Tubbo’s hand and started pulling him to the kitchen. 

Techno was late to dinner that evening, but when he arrived he had presents, so Tubbo instantly forgot his hunger. He handed a big, thin box to Phil, two identical small boxes to Tommy and Tubbo, and a bag to Wilbur.

“What’s the occasion?” Phil asked.

Techno shrugged. “Can’t I show my family I appreciate them?”

“Can we open them now?” Tommy interrupted. He was bouncing in his seat next to Tubbo.

Techno nodded, and Tommy and Tubbo tore into the wrapping paper. The little boxes each held a gold ring. Tubbo’s was on a gold chain. “They’re made from that enchanted helmet Tommy found in the village,” he explained. “I didn’t know your ring size, Tubbo, so I put it on a necklace. I can resize it if you want to wear it as a ring.”

“I like it this way,” Tubbo said, and Tommy helped him close the clasp in the back. 

Wilbur opened his next. It was a book.  _ The President’s Curse _ . “Where’d you find this?” Wilbur asked. “I’ve been looking for it for months.”

“I have my ways,” Techno said. “Your turn, Dad.”

Phil rolled his eyes good-naturedly and opened the box. Inside was the same black cape he’d been wearing for a few months. He looked to Techno with an eyebrow raised. “So… you stole my cape and gave it back to me as a gift?”

“‘Course not, Dad. I stole your cape, made it cooler, and then gave it back to you as a gift. Try it on.”

Phil stood and slipped it on over his shoulders. On the ends, Techno had bleached on a row of diamonds. “Wow, I must be so fashionable now,” he said with heavy sarcasm. Tubbo could see where Techno got it from.

“That’s not all, Dad. Close your eyes and picture that you have wings.” Phil raised his eyebrows at his eldest son, but closed his eyes and rolled his shoulders. “Now open them,” Techno said.

They all watched wide-eyed as the cape raised as if guided by invisible hands and the bottom edge of the black fabric split into long primary feathers, each adorned with a diamond at the tip.

“Look, Dad,” Techno said. “I gave you wings.” 

Phil opened his eyes and gasped at the huge wings behind his back. They flared when he startled, and a lantern was almost knocked off the wall.

“Maybe we should try them outside,” Wilbur said. He spoke at a whisper, trying not to break the spell that had fallen over them.

“I think so,” Phil said, a little breathless. He unclipped them, and the wings fell limp again, just a cape once more. “Techno,” he said. “Thank you. This is a wonderful gift.”

Techno shrugged. “Perks of being a- a Nether creature,” he said, stumbling a little over the words. Phil flinched a tiny bit, too. “Magic works a whole lot better now.”

They all piled into a hug around an uncomfortable Techno, and then they ate their dinner at record speed. Everyone was excited to get out and see the wings again. Tommy just threw on boots and a cape over his pajamas, but Phil made Tubbo bundle up before they left. When he was finally deemed good enough to go outside, Tubbo was wrapped up in a heavy coat, a hat pulled low over his ears and eyebrows, a scarf up to his nose. 

Wilbur conjured up big, throne-like chairs of ice and Techno collected some wood to make a bonfire in the center. It felt like a play had come to town, and they had front row seats. Phil clipped on the cape and opened his wings. They looked even more intimidating in the moonlight. 

Techno guided him through connecting his mind to the wings, which involved a lot of standing still and imagining having wings. It didn’t take long before Phil could open and close them as easily as moving his hand. He and Techno walked up the sledding hill for flying practice, and after a few failed take-offs ending with a face full of snow for Phil, he managed to keep himself in the air. Wilbur stood and whooped. Tommy and Tubbo cheered, too.

He kept practicing taking off, eventually getting over the fear of falling and relaxing. Tubbo had never seen anything this cool.  Phil landed next to Techno at the top of the hill and said something that the rest were too far away to hear. Techno nodded, and Phil hooked his arms around Techno like he was going to give him the Heimlich, and then took off.  Techno looked windswept and off-kilter when they landed, and he sat down heavily in his chair. Wilbur declined his turn, saying he preferred to keep his feet on the ground. Tommy went next, screaming and cheering the whole time. The second they touched down, he was begging to go again.

“After Tubbo gets a turn,” Phil said. “Are you ready?”

Tubbo took a deep breath and nodded. Phil hooked his arms under Tubbo’s arms and in front of his chest, flapped his wings a few times, and took off. The wind stung Tubbo’s eyes, and he was glad they’d made him bundle up. As they got higher, Tubbo felt his stomach drop to his knees, and his heart hammered in his chest. Looking down, he felt like he was about to fall, and this wasn’t the kind of drop you could recover from. But as his breathing turned erratic and he was taking big, gulping breaths in, he could feel the pressure of Phil’s arms clasped tight against his chest. He was safe, he was okay. Phil wouldn’t drop him. He closed his eyes to the kingdom he’d begun to call home and let the wind wash over him like waves. 

Phil settled them on the balcony of one of the highest castle spires. “Look, Tubbo,” he said in a hushed voice.

Tubbo gasped. The village glowed down below, a sea of lights in the barren, dark landscape. The castle was bright, too. Down below were Tommy and the twins, and beyond them, he could see the forest. 

“I want you to know, Tubbo, that you’re welcome in this family. I don’t know if you believe in fate, but I do, and I know you were meant to be here with us.”

Tubbo bit his lip. “I miss my dad,” he said.

“I know, Tubbo. It must be so tough. But he loved you so much, and I don’t want you to forget that. If, someday, you want me to be your legal guardian, I’ll sign the papers in a heartbeat. But I’m not replacing your dad. I feel so bad that he took away your memories of him, but we’re not going to forget about him, okay? I’m forever in his debt for raising such a wonderful boy, and I know I won’t forget it.”

Tubbo turned and hugged Phil tightly, and both Phil’s arms and wings wrapped securely around him.

Phil signed the paperwork the next week, Tubbo at his side, and bells tolled throughout the village to welcome their new prince. 

Tommy went with Tubbo to all of his fittings and helped him decide between a cape or a coat like Wilbur’s and what style crown he liked. All of his clothes were made of thicker material than the rest of the family’s, but they weren’t bulky. Just soft, and warm. His blue sweaters were interwoven with green, his favorite color. The rest of the family had red accents in their clothes, but Tubbo didn’t feel left out with his green. It just showed that he was special, something his new family made sure to celebrate. 

Wilbur and Tubbo seemed to get along swimmingly, and Wilbur would often tease Tubbo. He coined the phrase ‘Tubbo moment,’ for times when Tubbo had moments of forgetfulness (an unfortunate side effect of the memory wipe) which quickly caught on in the family. Tommy couldn’t get a read on Techno— he rarely could— but ever since Tubbo told his family that he was a ram hybrid, he and Techno seemed to have a deeper understanding of each other, being the only two hybrids of the family. When Tubbo’s horns were growing in and hurting, he went to Techno, who read to him and carded his hands through his hair with a bit of magic until the cold numbed the pain.

Tubbo joined Tommy’s private classes, though they had to be separated for English because Tubbo had a special teacher who helped him with reading, which he was far behind on and seemed to struggle with. In the afternoons when they had a break from classes, they’d go outside and play in the snow. Tommy would make igloos and slides and boats and swords out of snow, and they’d run and fight and chase each other for hours. Tommy finally felt like he had a twin, too, and he was never lonely anymore.

They were a family. They were together, and they were happy. 

Until one sunny spring morning four years later when Wilbur went missing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I did say I was done with Tubbo and Tommy angst, but I didn't promise no more angst in general. :-)
> 
> We're getting close to the end! How crazy is that? I haven't decided how many chapters are left, but it's between one and two. I'm trying to get it all done before I go back to school and that timeline just moved up so I'm cranking out this last bit asap, and hopefully the next chapter will be up by Friday.
> 
> In the coming chapter, we revisit a certain someone and are introduced to the final new character. I've had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while now, so I'm excited to write it. See you then!


	8. My Own Personal Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend and new beginnings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I have no clue how I thought I was going to be able to wrap this all up in one chapter. Considering the fact that this Google Doc is 46 pages and I'm not done yet, I don't know what I expected. So, second to last chapter! I tried a different style for this, so there's an alternating POV. 
> 
> Enjoy!

As with all good plots, it began with a letter.

_Dear Wilbur,_

_Hi! My name is Niki, and I’m a friend of Sally’s. I’m sorry to tell you this, but she went missing a few months ago. I’ve been caring for her son since then. Sally never told me much about you, but I was clearing out her flat recently and found some old letters she never sent to you. I’ve included them all in this envelope. It seems to me as though you wanted to be involved in your son’s life, and he’s started to ask questions about you, which is why I’m offering you this proposition: if you want to get to know Fundy, come see us in La Jolla, on the outskirts of Dream-SMP. I’ve included coordinates below. You can stay with us for as long as you like. I think it would be good for Fundy to get to know you, and I’d like to get to know you as well! If Sally liked you, I’m sure you’re a great person._

_I hope to hear from you soon!_

_\- Niki Nihachu_

Wilbur had been carrying the growing weight of a secret in his chest for years. Every month that went by without a peep from Sally wore away at his heart. So ragged it was, he wondered how it even kept beating at this point. He went to bed thinking about his son and woke up thinking about him. But he kept it to himself. He didn’t talk about him with anyone, not even Techno (beyond Techno cryptically proving his identity to Wilbur back when they were eighteen). Sometimes Wilbur would look at his dad, and the urge to just tell him everything would sit heavy on his tongue like a confession ready to be spoken to a priest. 

After Phil adopted Tubbo, Wilbur would sit by the window sometimes and watch Tommy and Tubbo play outside, and he would imagine his son playing with them. He wondered what it would be like if he inherited Wilbur’s powers and Wilbur wasn’t there to coach him through it the way Phil was for all of his boys. He tried not to think of that possibility. Surely Fundy wouldn’t receive that blessing when he already had his mother’s.

Wilbur daydreamed a hundred scenarios involving his little fox in the halls of the palace. In some, he was playing with Tommy and Tubbo. In others, he was being read to by Techno, or making hot chocolate with Phil, or getting tucked in at night by Wilbur. He’d wear dark blue sweaters like Wilbur and he wouldn’t need the traditional red accent in his clothes because his hair would be striking enough. Maybe Wilbur could teach him to play guitar, or the ukulele since it’s smaller and easier for little hands. He knew it was all wishful thinking, though, and he tried to make his peace with that. Fundy was his Achilles heel, and leaving him behind on that island had been the arrow that struck him where he was vulnerable. It bled and bled until he thought he had nothing left.

And then along came a letter from someone named Niki, who claimed to be caring for his son. Wilbur didn’t have to finish the letter to know his answer to her proposition: yes, yes, a thousand times yes. He wrote back immediately. Fate had been unkind to him when he was sixteen and again when he was eighteen, but he was twenty-two now and grown, and he prayed to Fate in the dead of night to ask her to take pity on him. “I won’t waste this opportunity,” he whispered, half a promise and half a prayer. He hoped she was listening.

Wilbur packed his things and stored the bag in his closet until the day came. He got up before the sunrise, just as he did when he was eighteen, so he could catch the trade ship north to the warmer countries. His yellow sweater was a bit tight on his shoulders and his black pants were short on his ankles, but they would have to do until he could barter for new clothes in some street market. He shouldered his guitar case and backpack, and slipped out of his room. He made his way to his dad’s bedchamber, not sure what he would say even as he was only feet away. The truth sat heavy in his mouth, but the scared sixteen-year-old he once was begged him to lie. He stood in front of the door for an eternity, his hand raised to knock but never coming down onto the wood. 

An owl screeched outside. Wilbur let out the breath he had been holding and sagged, his hand falling to his side. He ran back to his room, scribbled out a note for his twin, and slipped it under his door. Techno was a notoriously late riser, but Wilbur hoped just once he’d wake early and notice his brother’s absence before everyone else did and started to panic. Either way, he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He had a ship to catch. 

Tommy was one of the first to wake, as per usual. It was always his dad, then Tommy, then Wilbur, then Tubbo would be dragged out of bed by Tommy, and finally Techno would join them sometime in the early afternoon.

It was the weekend so Tommy and Tubbo didn’t have lessons, and Tommy wasn’t allowed to wake Tubbo up. If left undisturbed, Tubbo would usually sleep until the afternoon. Maybe having a god awful sleep schedule was just a hybrid thing.

Breakfast on the weekends was almost always a party of three— Tommy, Phil, and Wilbur— but this time it was just Phil and Tommy. “I’m sure Wil was just up late reading,” Phil said. “Nothing to worry about.” He took a slow sip of his tea like he was showing Tommy how unbothered he was.

They both heard a heavy thud from Techno’s room followed by his characteristic exclamation of confusion, and then pounding footsteps. The doors to the dining room opened and Techno flew in. He clearly had just woken up, his pajamas ruffled and hair a tangled, half-braided mess. A pillow crease cut across the scar on his cheek. 

“Techno, what’s the matter?” asked Phil. Techno marched over and slapped a scrap of paper down on the table right in front of Phil. Phil read it, then looked back up at his son. Clearly it didn’t mean as much to him as it did to Techno, because he met his son’s panic with quiet confusion. 

“What is it? Let me see!” said Tommy. Phil passed it to him.

_I’m safe. I’ve gone to see my fox._

_-W_

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

Techno sat down with a heavy sigh and took a piece of toast off of Tommy’s plate. “I have a story for you guys. It’s not mine— Wilbur should be telling it— but I guess he left it to me. Let me tell you about a shapeshifter named Sally.”

The coordinates Niki gave Wilbur would only take him to the village, not to Niki’s house, but she wrote back that she would meet him and take him to where she lived. It wasn’t in the village and it was easy to get lost along the way, she explained. She’d wear a blue and green dress so he would know it’s her.

The trade ship docked at Pluma Island, where he bought new clothes and food and water for the rest of the trip. He bought jeans and a similar yellow sweater, plus some lighter clothes since summer was approaching fast and he wasn’t sure how long he would be staying in La Jolla.

Instead of finding an inn, he spent the night on the same beach he first met his son at. He lay under the stars, tracing constellations with his finger. He wondered if Sally was out there somewhere, looking up at the same stars. He wasn’t in love with her anymore, probably never had been, but he held no ill will towards her. She was a lovely woman, and he hoped nothing bad had happened to her. But the other part of his brain wondered. If nothing bad happened, would that mean that she just abandoned her son? He couldn’t imagine her leaving him, not after she called him her greatest blessing. He resolved to ask Niki when he met her. The palm trees overhead shushed him when they rustled in the breeze, and his mind quieted. He drifted off by the waves, resting on a bed of sand. It was nothing like home and he loved every second of it. 

The next morning he had to barter for passage on a different trade ship that would go further north. La Jolla was at a way higher latitude than the Antarctic Empire, almost double the trip from home to Pluma Island. He still had another two days to go, assuming the weather stayed pleasant. He kept to himself, hoping not to be recognized as the prince of a foreign country. The only time he didn’t hide away was at night, when he’d play his guitar on the deck for anyone to listen, usually just the fish below, sometimes passengers on the ship who were coming up for some fresh air, and once, briefly, a siren. He’d never played for more than just a few members of his family at a time before, and his hands shook so bad he made a lot of mistakes the first night, but the second night was a lot easier. He hardly slept, kept awake by anticipation, so having something to do for those long hours was pleasant.

Finally, the coastline came into view and they were docking in La Jolla. A pretty blond woman in a long dress was waiting at the dock, holding hands with a little fox in boy’s clothing. Wilbur pushed past all of the meandering couples and ran to greet them. He knelt down in front of Fundy, who was half-hiding behind Niki’s leg.

“Hi Fundy,” he said softly. “You probably don’t remember me, but I’m your dad. I’m so happy to see you again.”

Fundy looked up at Niki, who smiled at him encouragingly, and he waved at his dad. Wilbur thought his little paws were so precious. They’d be absolutely tiny compared to his hands. 

Wilbur stood, offering his hand to Niki. “It’s really nice to meet you,” he said, realizing too late that her right hand was holding Fundy. He switched quickly and they shook left hands. She giggled, the melodic sound making him want to melt, and he could tell he was turning red. Hopefully she would just think he was a bit sunburnt. 

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” she said. “Are you ready to go home?”

 _Home_. He kind of liked the sound of that.

“I’ve got a grandson,” Phil said, his head in his hands. His breakfast sat cold in front of him. “I’ve been a grandfather for five bloody years, and he didn’t tell me?”

Techno sighed. “It also means Tommy’s been an uncle since he was eleven.”

“I’m a what?” cried Tommy.

The doors to the dining hall creaked open, and a bleary-eyed Tubbo slipped in. “Why are you guys yelling?”

“I’m an uncle!” Tommy continued yelling. “Since Dad adopted Tubbo, does that mean Tubbo’s an uncle, too?” he asked Techno.

Techno nodded. Tubbo just looked bewildered. “I’m not ready to be an uncle,” he said. He sat down in his usual seat beside Tommy, who slid him a piece of toast.

“Techno,” Phil said, “where’s Wil now?”

“I don’t know, he never told me where Sally lived, just that it was somewhere warm. He got passage on the north-bound trade ship, so the captain might know.”

Phil sighed. “When’s he coming back?”

“I don’t know. The letter I showed you is all he told me.”

“He _is_ coming back, right?” Tommy asked, looking around at his family. No one could answer him.

Niki’s home was certainly off the beaten path. She led Wilbur through the village and to a winding dirt path that cut through the woods, Fundy running around up ahead of them, making sure to stay in sight. Eventually, they came upon a clearing with a tall brick house in the center. Sunflowers lined the path up to the door. A tree stood off to the right of the house, a robin’s nest in one of the lower branches. A bee farm to the left dripped with honey. It was a lovely little oasis in the forest. 

Fundy bounced on his heels at the door. Niki took his hand and let him lead her into the house. “You can leave your bags by the door,” she called from the kitchen. “Come join us for lunch!”

Wilbur dumped his backpack and guitar in the front entryway by a coat rack, one long gray coat and one small black coat on it. He slipped off his trench coat and hung it beside his son’s jacket.

“Are chicken sandwiches okay with you?” Niki asked. 

“Perfect,” he replied. He slid into an empty seat at the kitchen table, across from Fundy, who was swinging his legs. “Is that what you’ll be having, too, Fundy?” Wilbur asked. 

Fundy nodded vigorously. “I really like Aunt Niki’s sandwiches. She runs the bakery and sometimes she brings home croissants for us to have for lunch. Croissants are my favorite,” he explained. He had the same accent as Sally. 

Wilbur could listen to his son forever. He could talk about the grass growing outside and Wilbur would listen with absolute attention. “That’s really cool!” he said. “Does Aunt Niki let you help her bake sometimes?”

Fundy shook his head. “She says I can help when I’m older but the oven’s still too dangerous. But I like to put frosting on cookies! Aunt Niki said I’m really good at it.”

Niki slid three plates onto the table and took a seat beside Fundy. “I can show you some of what he’s made after lunch. He’s a great decorator.”

He gave her a thankful smile. “I’d love that.”

Fundy stuck close to Niki’s side as they brought Wilbur’s stuff up to the guest room. He pointed out rooms to Wilbur as they walked. “That’s the store room,” he said, pointing to a small room full of chests. “And that’s the piano room.”

Wilbur stopped short. “You have a piano room?”

Niki pushed the door open, and they filed in. “My ex played, but I never could,” she said, trailing her fingers over the keys. “Fundy wants to learn but I haven’t found a teacher.”

“I can teach him,” Wilbur said. “I mostly play guitar, but I picked up piano back when I was a teenager.”

“Great!” Niki said. “If you’re up to it, you can start after you get settled in. I think I still have her sheet music in the attic.”

She pointed Wilbur to the guest room and disappeared into her own room where the attic access was. Fundy went to his own room, leaving Wilbur on his own. He set his bag down on the twin bed that sat in the middle of the left wall, in between a nightstand and a desk. It faced a closet, a shelf above it holding a few ivies and string of pearls plants hanging down. The window across from the door showed off the forest. A sliver of distant ocean peaked through the trees. He pushed the window open to let the fresh air in, and started unpacking. He sat his guitar in the corner between the window and closet and tossed his backpack on the bed. He didn’t bring much with him, so it went by quickly. Once everything was put away, he flopped back on the bed. After sleeping on a hammock on the trade ship for so many nights, the old mattress felt like a cloud.

Soft footsteps padded into the room, and Wilbur cracked open an eye. Fundy was standing at the end of the bed, a tabby cat plushy tucked under one arm. “Hi, Fundy,” Wilbur said. “What’s up?”

Fundy shrugged, and climbed up onto the bed. He stared up at his dad for what felt like an eternity, and Wilbur waited patiently for whatever question he was pondering. Finally, he asked, “Are you a shapeshifter?”

“No, I’m, um, just a human.”

“Oh,” Fundy said. “Mommy’s a shapeshifter.”

“Yeah,” said Wilbur. “You take after her.”

Fundy nodded. “She taught me how to do this,” he said. Between one blink and the next, the little fox next to him became a little boy with red hair and fox ears. 

“Wow,” Wilbur said. Fundy’s eyes were a deeper brown in human form, almost identical to Wilbur’s, and he had the same fluffy hair. When he smiled, he still had little fangs. 

Niki knocked on the open door, a box full of papers on her hip. “Hello!” she said. “Ready to play?”

Dust floated through the sunlight shining in the piano room. It was cozy, shelves packed with books and cushions piled high in wicker chairs. They played all afternoon, until the Sun was setting and Fundy could play Twinkle Twinkle like a pro. Niki brought in all kinds of vegetables from the small farm out back which Wilbur helped her wash and prepare to store, Fundy’s slow piano music filling the air. 

They had dinner together and then moved to the living room. Fundy picked out a book and Niki read it to him, Wilbur watching the happy scene from the other end of the couch. When Fundy started to get sleepy, Niki picked him up and took him to bed. He was back in fox form then, and he waved a little paw at Wilbur over her shoulder. Niki made them both tea after, and they drank it on the back porch so they could talk.

“Thank you for letting me visit,” he said. “You don’t know how much it means to me.”

“I think it means a lot to him, too. His mom leaving took a toll on him.”

“What happened to her?”

Niki sighed. Her shoulders drooped and she leaned over her mug. “No one knows. She dropped Fundy off to stay with me for a few days so she could go on a trip up north, and she just never came back. I’ve asked around but no one’s heard from her. They don’t even know where she went.”

Wilbur’s mind supplied him with a memory from that night so long ago: Sally telling him that she followed Fate’s call. Always. “I hope she’s okay,” he said. “Fundy deserves a mom.”

“He deserves a dad, too,” she said gently. “Why didn’t she ever talk about you?”

“We were only together for a single night years ago,” he said. He looked up at the stars, shining brightly without the light from a large village like the one back home. “She let me see him once when he was still a baby, but she didn’t want him growing up how I did, so she cut contact.”

“How you did?”

Wilbur hummed. “Have you heard of the Antarctic Empire?”

“Mhm. The royal family are magic users, right?”

“We are,” he said. “I’m second in line for the throne after my twin, and Sally didn’t really like that. She wanted Fundy to have a normal life and not grow up sheltered in a palace.”

Niki took a sip of her tea, processing all he revealed. “Should I be calling you Your Royal Highness?” she asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

He smiled. “Call me that and I’ll send a snow golem after you. They’re quite good at throwing snowballs, despite the twig arms.”

She took his threat as the joke it was, and they dissolved into laughter. Wilbur thought they’d be good friends.

As the days dragged on, Techno found himself lingering in his twin’s doorway more and more. The palace workers had let the fire die, and the room grew colder every day. Every day, though, he’d push the door open just the same, expecting the usual warmth and light, his brother sitting by the window reading or playing his guitar or staring off into the night. 

Phil came up behind Techno and put a hand on his shoulder. “He’ll come home,” he reminded Techno. “He’s not in danger— he said so himself in his note— so we should let him enjoy his time with his son and be ready to welcome him back with open arms when he comes home.”

“What if he decides home is with his son?”

Phil looks away. Techno felt bad for a second. It was clearly something Phil had been agonized over, too. “All his things are here. _We’re_ here. He’ll come back.”

“If he’s not back a month from when he left,” Techno said, “I’m going looking for him.”

“No. Techno, you can’t. You and Wilbur are the only ones trained to take over for me if something happens. I can’t let you go.”

“I’ll go,” a third voice said, and they turned together to look at the youngest member of their family, standing tall before them. “If he’s not back at the end of the month, I’ll go looking for him,” Tommy said. “Tubbo will come, too.”

Techno turned back to Phil. “Dad. Seriously? Tommy’s never even been on a trip. I have. I’ve survived the Nether and made it back home. Let me go.”

Phil shook his head. “You barely made it home from that trip. No. End of discussion. And Tommy, we’ll talk about this later.” 

Tommy, who was already backing away from the tense conversation, took that as his sign to leave and booked it to Tubbo’s room. Tubbo was at his desk, trying to use redstone wires to power an alarm clock. He startled when Tommy barged in, and bits of metal and redstone went everywhere. 

“I think they’re gonna let us go,” Tommy said. “Dad doesn’t want Techno going, and he obviously can’t, so that leaves us!”

“Kinda sucks that we're the third choice for it.”

Tommy scoffed, flopping on the bed. “Who cares about that, we get to go on an adventure!”

Tubbo set aside his clock and swept all the redstone into a bin. He jumped onto the bed next to Tommy. “When?” he asked.

Tommy turned to him with a wide grin. “Three weeks, if Wilbur's not home by then.”

Wilbur quickly fell into a routine living at Niki’s house. He’d get up with the Sun and help her feed the chickens and collect eggs, then feed and milk the two cows she kept. He would wake Fundy and help him get dressed while she made breakfast. They would eat as a (dare he say it) family, and then she would head to the bakery and Wilbur would spend the day with Fundy, teaching him about whatever he was curious about that day, practicing his writing and reading, playing hide and seek outside, or working on his piano skills. Sometimes they would bring Niki lunch at the bakery and she would take a break so the three of them could eat together. At night, they’d sit on the porch and chat, or they’d play guitar together. 

The weeks flew by, and before Wilbur knew it, the month was drawing to a close. He started to wonder if he was overstaying his welcome. One night, as he washed dishes and she dried them, he asked her, point blank.

“You’re not overstaying, Wil,” she said. She called him Wil way more than Wilbur now, and he quite liked it. “I really like having you here. You’ve been a big help on the farm and with Fundy, and more importantly, you’ve got him to come out of his shell again. I should be thanking you.”

They fell silent again, and he washed another two dishes before he had to stop. Tears were brimming in his eyes and the cup in his hand was just a blurry red blob. “I don’t want to go,” he whispered. “I can’t leave Fundy again. But I have to go home. My family, they… I owe it to them.”

Niki was quiet for a while more, methodically drying dishes while she thought. “He’s your son,” she said. “You should have custody. If you want to take him back with you, I won’t stop you.”

He raised his head to look into her sad blue eyes. “He’s as much my child as he is yours. He loves you so much. I can’t take him from you.”

She set her towel down and turned to lean her back against the counter. “Can I say something selfish?” she asked.

He studied her profile in the dying light. “Anything,” he said.

“Please stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final new character is introduced! Niki Nihachu! As someone who's bi, I am contractually obligated to have a crush on both her and Wilbur. They're just so pretty. And Niki is such an interesting, complex character in the SMP who deserves a bigger role, so I couldn't not include her.  
> I was rewatching Wilbur's Stardew Valley Date video last night, and when Niki mentioned that she was wearing the same top as she wore on LoH, I knew I had to include it. That's why she wears a blue and green dress in the beginning :) 
> 
> Also, as I was writing this I did some math and realized I completely butchered the voyage times for Wilbur's first trip, so it's now canon for this story that they live on an Earth where everything looks the same but it's 1/2 the size of ours so that sailing all the way from Argentina to Panama and then Panama to Los Angeles would only take 4 days at top commercial speed instead of 8 or more. 
> 
> I'm hoping to have the final chapter up tomorrow, but I'm celebrating my birthday tonight so I'm not sure when I'll have time to work on it. If it gets delayed, it will be up Monday. So, see you tomorrow, hopefully!


	9. I don't think I want to leave you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end, but also the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe we've reached the last chapter. This is technically going up Sunday morning instead of Saturday night, but at least I got it finished!
> 
> This chapter was hard to write. It definitely was an exercise in writing myself out of plot holes. But I think the story wrapped up pretty nicely. I hope you think so, too. 
> 
> Enjoy. :)

It was almost the end of the month, and Phil still hadn’t talked with Tommy about letting him go find Wilbur. He was growing restless. Tubbo still had another hour of English with his tutor, leaving Tommy with nothing to do. He wandered the halls, eventually finding Techno in the forge. He was fully prepared to further annoy his perpetually-annoyed older brother, but Techno actually looked excited to see him instead of blandly neutral like usual. “Tommy,” Techno said, bookmarking a passage in the old book he was reading, “do you still have that compass Dad gave you for your birthday a while ago?”

“The one that always points home? I’ve got it somewhere, but it’s been broken for years.”

“Broken? What did you do to it?”

“Nothing! It just started being all weird and shit, pointing to places that weren’t the castle.”

“Where would it point?”

Tommy shrugged. “Last time I used it was when I first met Tubbo. Besides home, I think it pointed back towards the abandoned village, and somewhere else. I don’t remember where. Left, I think.”

Techno raised his eyebrows. “Left.”

“Piss off. I’m not good with directions.”

Techno turned back to his book. “Go get it, I want to see something.”

Tommy stomped away. Any time his brothers told him to do something, even if he was already going to do it, he suddenly didn’t want to do it anymore. He dragged his feet all the way to his bedchamber and back. He presented the compass to Techno, who held an unenchanted compass of his own. He instructed Tommy to hold the enchanted one, and Techno tried to mark where it was pointing. It was spinning in circles, not stopping at any one spot long enough for Techno to mark anything down.

“Let’s go outside,” Techno instructed. Tommy whined, but Techno marched on, knowing his brother would follow him. Curiosity always gets the cat, after all. It spun a little slower outside, pointing at the castle for a few seconds during every lazy turn. 

“I’ve got it,” Techno said. “Tommy, that compass doesn’t point to the castle. It points to us, your family. You can use this to find Wilbur.”

Tommy watched it spin, slowing as it came around to point towards Techno. “How will I know which one’s him?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s this one,” he said, holding his own compass so it pointed northwest and tapping Tommy’s when it pointed that same way. “It’s definitely not any of us.”

“I have to tell Dad,” Tommy said. He hugged Techno quickly, squeezing the air out of him, and then running back towards the castle.

“Dad! Dad!” he called, pushing open the door to Phil’s study. He dropped the compass on Phil’s desk, right on top of some papers he was reading. 

“Tommy, those are important,” he said. “What do you need?”

“This compass points to Wilbur, and it only works for me. Now you have to let me go find him.”

Phil sighed. “Tommy… I still don’t know. You’re so young, and you’ve never been on a long trip like this.”

“Tubbo has. He and his dad used to travel all the time. Please, Dad? I promise you I can do this.”

“Fine,” Phil said. “But you can’t be gone for more than two weeks, and we’re going to cover all our bases before we go. I’ll talk to that trade ship captain about Wil’s whereabouts tomorrow, and we’ll make a plan. Together.”

Wilbur stayed in bed a little longer the next day. Indecision still weighed heavily on him, beckoning him to stay under the covers all day and forget the world’s existence. Niki handled the outside chores on her own, and when she came back inside, he finally rolled out of bed and went to get his son up. Fundy seemed to be having a sleepy day too, clinging to his dad for a while instead of dragging him over to the dresser so they could pick out the day’s outfit. Wilbur carried Fundy to the kitchen and held him on his hip while he made tea for himself and Niki. He didn’t want to let go of his dad even as they sat down to eat, and he stayed on Wilbur’s lap while they ate their scrambled eggs.

“It’s Sunday,” Niki reminded them. The bakery was closed on Sundays, which Wilbur had totally forgotten. “We should do something fun!”

“We could go to the beach,” Wilbur suggested. “How’s that sound, Fundy?” As if on cue, a deep boom of thunder echoed outside, and rain began to tap on the windows. “Never mind,” he sighed. 

They all took their time getting ready that morning. Niki took a long shower while Wilbur got Fundy dressed. When she came out of her room, she was wearing the pretty blue and green dress from the first day they met. It was a good memory. Wilbur handed Fundy off to Niki and took his own long shower, using up the last of their hot water. The rain turned the air cold and damp, which he used as an excuse to dress in his favorite yellow knit sweater.

They built a pillow fort in the living room and Niki lit a lantern for them to use in their fort when the power went out. The loud thunder scared Fundy, so they distracted him with board games until the storm passed. Then they moved to the kitchen, and Wilbur made hot chocolate the way his dad always did when he and his brothers were younger. It didn’t taste quite the same, but Niki reassured him that it was really good. Wilbur told the two of them the ghost stories Phil used to tell them, before Techno lived through his own ghost story and they all stopped enjoying them.

Niki and Wilbur built a bonfire that evening, and by the time the flames were dying out, Fundy’s mouth and paws were covered in marshmallow and chocolate. Niki took him in to have a bath, leaving Wilbur to put out the fire. He looked up at the constellations, Orion posed bravely right above him. Wilbur still wasn’t used to seeing the stars so clearly. Listening to the crickets chirping and the sound of Fundy’s sleepy giggles slipping through the open bathroom window, Wil knew he couldn’t leave. This was home.

In the Antarctic Empire, the remaining royal family faced a storm of their own. Icy rain pounded on the windows, keeping them all tucked inside. Techno sat in the window seat in the solar, a book he was only half-reading open in his lap. Phil, Tubbo, and Tommy stood around a map in the center of the room.

“This is Pluma Island,” Phil said, drawing a circle on the map. “Wilbur bartered for passage there both times. Last time, he stayed in Pluma, but this time, he got on another ship going farther north. I don’t know how far, though. That might be where your compass has to come in use.”

Tommy and Tubbo looked at each other and nodded. Sometimes, they seemed to have their own language, just like Wilbur and Techno used to when they were younger. 

“You guys still want to do this? Even knowing you’ll be on your own once you get to Pluma?” Phil asked.

Tommy nodded. “When can we go?”

Phil pulled two papers out of pocket and slid them to the boys. The papers had the king’s official stamp, and they would allow the boys transport on the trade ship. “Tomorrow,” Phil said.

Tommy and Tubbo said goodbye to their family early the next morning, and set off for the docks. Techno and Phil watched them go from the front gate. Tommy and Tubbo disappeared into the village, and then there were two.

Getting on the ship was easy, and Tommy was on cloud nine. To him, it felt like they were spies in the mystery books Wilbur liked to read. They even had clothes to help them blend in: a green button down for Tubbo, a red and white t-shirt for Tommy. But then Tommy realized sailing was kind of boring. He and Tubbo swung in the hammocks below deck most of the day, telling stories and planning out how they would find Wilbur. At night, they went out to the top deck and watched the stars. They were so much brighter out in the ocean. 

From the crow’s nest up above, the empty-eyed man watched them. He plucked one of Fate’s strings from where it was hidden amongst the stars and held it in his hands. It glowed bright with happy memories to come— new beginnings, a strengthening friendship, a wooden bench and a jukebox. He twisted it in his hand until the memories became dark and painful— betrayal, exile, lost discs and friends on different sides of a war. Unceremoniously, he tossed it into the sea. As he cast one last look down at Tommy and Tubbo, he slipped a porcelain mask over his face. The simple face carved into the mask smiled down at the boys.

Tubbo thought he saw a flash of color up in the sails, but when he turned, nothing was there. He settled back against Tommy and leaned back to watch the stars. 

Fundy really liked having his dad around. He made Aunt Niki happy, and he was really fun. He sung to Fundy when he couldn’t sleep, and he helped him steal cookies from the jar Aunt Niki kept on the top shelf, and they played piano together on rainy days. But recently, he seemed sad. He sat in his room a lot, staring at a blank piece of paper with a quill in his hand. Fundy caught him during one of those times, and stood on his tiptoes to look at Wilbur’s desk. “What are you doing?” he asked. 

“Writing a letter,” Wilbur said.

“I like writing letters! Can I help?”

Wilbur reached over and ruffled his fur. “I’d love that. I’m writing a letter to my dad, your grandpa, just updating him on what I’ve been doing.”

Fundy pondered for a moment, playing with the buttons on his dad’s shirt. “You should tell him about the cookies we made last week. And the song I’m learning. And how the bees made baby bees and now the colony’s a lot bigger!”

“Those are really good ideas, Fundy! Why don’t you go practice your song so we can surprise Niki with it when she gets home? I’ll join you in a little bit.” Wilbur finally brought the quill down onto the paper as Fundy left. 

_Dad,_

_I know I owe you an apology, and an explanation. But I think I’ll start by telling you about the cookies I baked with my son last week…_

Pluma Island was warm. An ocean breeze blew through the docks, and Tubbo took a deep breath of salty, humid air. He missed being somewhere that wasn’t covered in snow year-round. Next to him, Tommy fanned himself with his shirt.

“You look like you’re melting,” Tubbo said, walking them over to the shade of a palm tree. “It’s not even that hot.”

“I’m dying, Tubbo,” he said. 

“It’s like twenty three degrees.”

“I’m dying.”

Tubbo sighed. “I’m going to talk to the captain,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

As he walked away, he watched Tommy slide down the tree until he was sitting, long legs sprawled out, and desperately fish through their bags for their canteen. Tubbo waited for everyone else to depart the ship before he walked onboard and found the captain. The captain pointed him to the northwest end of the dock for where Wilbur got on a different ship, though he couldn’t remember which one. Tubbo thanked him and went to go find Tommy. 

There were only two ships tied up at the northwest end, so they started with the closer one. They found the captain loading barrels onto the dock. “Excuse me,” Tommy said. “Do you remember a guy who asked for passage about a month ago, really tall, wears round glasses, probably was wearing a red beanie? His name’s Wilbur.”

The captain leaned heavily on a barrel and studied him and Tubbo. “Sorry, kids. I’d remember someone with a name like that.”

They trudged onto the next one, and asked the same question. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t,” she said. The fish in the bucket she was holding splashed water into her face. She turned to set it down on the dock with some other buckets. “Good luck, though,” she said over her shoulder. They walked back down the dock, and Tommy pulled out his compass. They’d have to find horses and go on foot.

“Wait!” the captain called, running down the dock towards them. “Does he play guitar?” Tommy nodded frantically. “Yeah, I remember him! Probably saved us from a siren attack. He was going to Dream-SMP, which I’m headed to in the morning. You two can come along if you want.”

Tommy and Tubbo shared a hopeful look. “Thank you so much,” Tommy said. 

The captain shrugged. “No problem. ‘Figure I owe him for the siren thing. We’re leaving at dawn.”

Wilbur wrote and rewrote the letter to his dad three more times. Finally, it was ready, just in time for Sunday. The three of them were headed to the docks for a couple of reasons. Wilbur would head first to the mail boat to hand off his letter, and then he would join Niki to help her move a shipment of flour back to the bakery. Niki was pulling a wagon as they walked, with Fundy sitting inside. He would stay there until they would need the wagon for the heavy bags of flour; it was a great way to keep him from getting lost. 

Wilbur hadn’t been to the docks since he first arrived a little over a month earlier, and he was quickly reminded how much of a bustling hub Dream-SMP was. Niki’s house was a good distance from the central city where their mysterious leader Dream was rumored to live. It had to be just a rumor; Techno said Dream was one of the people who didn’t make it out of the Nether. It would be pretty easy for Dream’s cabinet to replace him with an imposter, Wil figured, since he wore a mask and no one knew what he really looked like. Or maybe he had his own miracle in the Nether, just like Techno.

The captain of the mail boat took Wilbur’s letter and a few coins with a smile, and then Wilbur turned to find Niki. Someone bumped into him as he started walking, and his elbow went right into their stomach.

“Sorry!” he said, looking to see who he hurt. “What— Tommy?” 

Tommy launched himself at Wilbur, and nearly took the both of them down. A second later, Wilbur felt a second set of smaller, warmer hands join the hug. Tubbo.

“What are you guys doing here?” he asked.

“Looking for you!” said Tubbo. “And we wanna see your son!”

Wilbur pulled away to look his younger brothers in the eye. “Does Dad know you came?”

“He sent us,” Tommy said. “We’re so brave and cool, he knew we’d be able to find you and bring you home. Plus my magic compass points at you.” He pulled it out of his pocket and showed Wilbur how it spun in circles, slowing near Tubbo and Wilbur. It might have slowed in the direction of Fundy, too, but Wilbur wasn’t sure.

“I have to go help Niki with something, but we can talk about this after.” He gestured for them to follow him, and then started down the docks.

“Is Niki your girlfriend?” Tommy asked.

“No,” Wilbur said. “She’s my best friend. She’s been taking care of Fundy. My son.”

“I thought Techno said her name was Sally,” said Tubbo.

Wilbur shook his head. “I’ll explain everything later. Wait here while I talk to her.”

Tommy and Tubbo watched as he walked over to the pretty blonde loading bags onto a little red wagon. He helped her stack the last few bags on top and then reached out for the paw of the little fox sitting next to Niki. Wilbur told Niki something, nodding over to Tommy and Tubbo. Tubbo waved when she looked over, and she waved back. She put a hand on Wilbur’s arm, pulling him close to whisper in his ear. He nodded and gave the hand on his arm a reassuring squeeze, and then he booped her nose. 

“Ew,” Tommy said. “Are they flirting?”

Tubbo shrugged. “I think they’re just being weird.”

Wilbur, Niki, and Fundy walked over, and Niki introduced herself to the boys. “I’m going to head to the bakery,” she said, mostly to Wilbur. “Why don’t you go home and start lunch?”

“Thanks, Niki,” Wilbur said. Fundy was hiding behind his leg, and when Wilbur let go of his hand, he instantly reached for Niki’s. She waved goodbye to Wilbur’s brothers and left them alone on the dock.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

 _Home?_ Tommy mouthed to Tubbo. Tubbo shook his head. That didn’t bode well for them getting Wilbur back to the Antarctic Empire.

Niki’s house was cozy and warm. The late spring breeze blew through open windows and fluttered gauzy white curtains, and the house was clearly lived-in, but not cluttered. Wilbur showed them where to put their bags, and led them to the kitchen. He got to work preparing a pot of soup. With his back turned to his brothers, he found the courage to say, “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye when I left. I was going to tell you all before I went, but I didn’t know what to say.”

“Anything would have been nice,” Tommy said. “We thought you fuckin’ died.”

“Is that why Dad sent you?”

“Kind of,” said Tubbo, cutting off Tommy before he could start ranting. “Mostly to find out where you went and when you’re coming home.”

Wilbur set down the wooden spoon he was using to stir. “About that—”

“We’re home!” Niki called. Fundy came bounding into the kitchen and right into Wilbur’s arms. 

“Fundy,” Wilbur said, “I don’t think you were properly introduced to my brothers. This is Tommy and that’s Tubbo,” he said, pointing to each one respectively.

“Hi,” Fundy said shyly. 

“I like your cat,” Tubbo said, gesturing to the plushy in Fundy’s arms. “I have a bee, but it’s back home.”

Fundy held the toy out so Tubbo could see it better. “His name is Boots!”

“I like that name! Mine’s named Spins.”

Wilbur set Fundy down at the table so he could keep talking to Tubbo and helped Niki pour the soup into bowls. She winked at him, and he smiled back.

That lunch was the liveliest Niki had ever seen. Tommy kept making everyone laugh with a dramatized version of their trip to La Jolla, Tubbo chiming in to humble him every once in a while. Once dishes were cleared, Niki gave Wilbur a look. “Fundy, let’s go for a walk,” she said. “I want to pick some flowers for our bees.” 

He hopped down from his chair and started to follow Niki out of the room. “Is Dad coming, too?”

“Not this time,” Niki said. “But we can find a pretty rock to bring back for him.” 

Fundy pouted and reluctantly waved goodbye to his dad and uncles. While Niki found a basket and helped Fundy put on his shoes, Wilbur started to wash their bowls. He always had to be doing something while he had big conversations. He could never just sit around for them.

And then Niki and Fundy left, and it was quiet in the house. “Why did you leave us?” Tommy asked. His voice was quiet, devoid of his usual bravado and energy.

“Fundy’s mom, Sally, disappeared and left him with Niki. Niki rightly assumed I wanted to be a part of his life and offered to let me stay with her for a while. He was having a hard time, and she thought seeing me might help.”

“You really scared Phil,” said Tubbo, in that same quiet tone.

“I know. I sent him a letter earlier today explaining everything.”

“You’re not coming back, are you?” asked Tubbo. He posed it as a question, but it seemed like he already knew the answer.

Wilbur sighed and set the last bowl on the drying rack. He turned to look at his brothers. “I don’t know, guys. Maybe someday, but I’m really happy here.”

Tommy looked stricken. “You weren’t happy at home?”

“I was, I was! But it’s different here. I don’t know how to explain it. Why don’t you both stay here tonight, and see what I mean. Please? I can show you around, and- and we can go to the beach! And we can have a bonfire, and make s’mores!”

So they did just that. Wilbur showed them the piano room and the bee farm and the robin’s nest and the milk cows, which Tommy immediately dubbed Henry and Harold. Fundy and Niki came back from their walk then, and Fundy shyly handed a flower each to Tommy and Tubbo. Tubbo stuck his in the pocket of his button down, and wrestled Tommy to the ground so he could stick Tommy’s flower in his hair. Niki applauded their new looks and took a flower out of the bundle she collected to stick behind Wilbur’s ear. He grumbled about it, but he leaned down to make it easier for her. 

The rest of the flowers went to the bees, and then they all changed into shorts and headed to the beach. It was pretty crowded, being a nice Sunday afternoon, but Niki showed them to a hidden section of the coastline that she discovered years earlier and no one else had found since. Tubbo taught Fundy how to make a sandcastle, and then Tommy, who was being chased by Wilbur because he dumped slimy sea kelp on his head, tripped and crushed it. That led to a chicken fight, Tubbo on Tommy’s shoulders and Fundy on Wilbur’s. Fundy found that he didn’t much appreciate being dunked, and was replaced by Niki so he could go back to the beach to make another sandcastle. By the time the Sun started to set, their clothes were soaking wet and their hair was stiff with sea salt. Their cheeks were red both from sunburn and from laughing so hard. 

Once they were all showered and dressed, Wilbur started a fire in the backyard and they roasted hot dogs over it. Fundy curled up on his dad’s lap, his head against his dad’s chest. He watched everyone cook dinner through half-closed eyes. But he perked up when they brought out the marshmallows and chocolate, and he quickly decided Tommy was his favorite uncle when he cooked six marshmallows at once and shoved three each in between graham crackers for himself and Fundy.

“He’s never going to sleep now,” Niki told Wilbur while Fundy was distracted with his s’more. 

Wilbur shook his head. “I bet you he’ll go into a sugar coma and sleep like a baby.”

“If he doesn’t, you’re making breakfast for a week.”

“Deal.”

 _Gods_ , Tommy thought, _adults are boring_.

When they were all about an inch away from their own sugar comas, they shuffled back inside. Wilbur took Fundy to get ready for bed, and Niki set up the pull-out couch for the boys.

“I’m glad you came to visit,” she told them. “Wil missed you a lot.”

“Thanks for letting us stay,” said Tubbo.

Niki smiled at them from the doorway. “You can stay as long as you want.”

The next morning, Wilbur took them to the bakery first so they could see it and so Wilbur could drop off Fundy. They continued on into the Dream-SMP and Wilbur showed them the city he was coming to love. When the Sun reached the middle of the sky and became unbearable, Wilbur bought them ice cream and they sat by the giant chess board in the park to eat it. Wilbur’s and Tommy’s were kept cold by their magic, but Tubbo’s became a sticky mess in the heat. They watched a few high schoolers play chess with the giant pieces. Nearby, children played in a fountain and a couple was walking a dog. It was pretty different from back home, where people limited how long they were outside as much as possible. 

“I think we have to go home tomorrow so Phil doesn’t think we died,” Tubbo said, breaking the pleasant silence they’d been sitting in.

“Will you come with us?” asked Tommy.

Wilbur studied his younger brothers. They’d both grown so much in the years since they adopted Tubbo. They were more confident now, and they had a bond stronger than even Wilbur and Techno’s. They didn’t need Wilbur. But Fundy did. “I’m sorry. It hurts so much to not be there with you guys, but… I can’t leave them. I need to be here for my son.”

Tommy and Tubbo looked at each other, and had another one of those conversations without words that Wilbur had missed watching. They nodded in sync ( _how do they do that?_ Wilbur wondered) and turned back to Wilbur. “We’re staying, too, then,” Tommy said.

Wilbur sighed. “What about Dad? Techno?”

“They have each other,” Tommy said. 

Wilbur studied them for a moment, eyebrows raised, then broke into a smile. “We’re gonna need a bigger house.”

In the end, Tommy and Tubbo did catch the next ship home to explain the situation to their father, who gave them his blessing to go back and promised to visit one day. While they were gone, the house was expanded and a floor was added to it, so it was big enough for two more boys. The boys returned a few months later with everything they and Wilbur were missing, though their royal capes and gilded crowns were left behind to gather dust in the palace.

Tommy and Tubbo lived side by side with Wilbur and his little family, getting into trouble in the Dream-SMP town center with all the villagers who lived there: Eret, Sapnap, Alyssa, Bad, Ant, and more. Wilbur lost count at some point. They even managed to prank Prince George when he moved into the capitol building, nicknamed the Community House, to be closer to his friends Dream and Sapnap. Wilbur was sure if any of them had recognized Tommy and Tubbo, war would have been declared on their country, but they had given up using their magic long before and no one suspected them of being anything but commoners. 

And they were happy. Tommy and Tubbo had each other, and down the little path they built to the beach, they had a wooden bench and a jukebox. And Wilbur had his little family and all the time in the world with his son. And Tommy was right, Phil and Techno had each other, and that was enough for them. 

So here, dear reader, is where we’ll leave the royal family. Their future has already been written for them, and I believe you know how that melody plays out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The big reveal! To everyone who guessed that the empty-eyed man was Eret, good guess! I honestly hadn’t even thought about that when I wrote him but that would have been cool. The reason it's Dream is because I just love that in the SMP lore not much is known about him (ie if he's human, how many lives he has, etc) and his major goal is causing the most chaos, so I thought it would be cool to make him like Herobrine and have him be there in the background moving everyone like pawns. I was really inspired by the song Marionettes by Kanaya. It’s beautiful and you should check it out if you haven’t!
> 
> So, we’ve reached the end! However, this isn’t goodbye! I have an off-shoot planned, set in the future. After all, Fundy is a member of the royal family (whether he knows it or not) and he needs to receive his blessing and curse. I'll see you there :)
> 
> And lastly, thank you for all the support this story has received. It started as just a fun one-shot I was going to post as part of a new year's resolution, and it ended up being the longest thing I have ever written. Reading all your comments has been the highlight of my day, and was a great way to start off the new year. Thank you all so much! 💜💜


End file.
